


The Eagles Of Masyaf

by nishiki



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: F/F, M/M, Modern AU, Piercings, Tattoos, abbas is a giant dickface, altair is a big baby, grandma altair is the best, guardian malik, kadar is a moody teenager, king altair, king and guardian au, maria is cool in this one, not amused malik, poor poor rauf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-04-30 03:57:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 138,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5149400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nishiki/pseuds/nishiki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seven long years Altaїr spent far, far away from his home and kingdom of Masyaf, after his grandmother sent him away to his family and to safety, right after the death of his father. An accident, they had said. A tragic event – one more tragic event in the life of the young prince. Sadly his family had always been struck by sad events and always it had been the Sofians, their rivals for the throne of Masyaf who had laughed the hardest. Now it is Altaїr's turn to grab for the crown and to lead his kingdom into a blissful future, his only ally his former best friend Malik Al-Sayf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The King of Swords

**Author's Note:**

> Please check out lovely veriathen's artwork of Malik in a sherwani for this story too! I absolutely adore it *^* Thanks so much for putting so much effort in this drawing for me <3
> 
> http://www.deviantart.com/art/Malik-in-black-Sherwani-601070536  
> http://veriathen.deviantart.com/art/Malik-in-black-Sherwani-2-601159834

The sharp, merciless sound of steel hitting steel filled the ancient halls deep beneath the castle, echoing off the high and almost naked stonewalls all around, silent witnesses to the panting of the two rivals, fighting a relentless duel with their rapiers against each other. It was a battle almost as old as the stone structure around them, a duel brother against brother. They moved like dancers, circling around each other, with feet so quickly it was hard to tell where they would move next. If it would not have been for the tightly knitted masks in front of their faces one keen observing eye would see the sweat glistening on the foreheads of the fighters, running down their tanned faces in thick salty beads, only stopped ever so often by their tightly furrowed brows or the stubbles on their jaws.

"You need to push yourself more!" One of the two fencers hissed. Both of them were wearing a snow-white suit with a turtleneck and white gloves, just as this noble and venerable sport called for and not the littlest stain could be seen on the thick fabric. This one held his left arm crossed behind his back, his gloved fingers curling and clawing into the fabric of his suit, so he would not feel tempted to use his left hand at any cost. He had given a promise to his opponent and his honor alone commanded him to stick to it no matter what it meant. He was a man of honor and he did not like half-hearted promises, no half-hearted commitments. He was a man who stood behind his words and his every action. That was how he had been raised and that was how he always managed to keep his chin up, no matter how rough his days got.

His opponent, the second fencer, was taller in growth than the first, albeit it only a few inches - as the first one always liked to emphasize - but he was a lot more lanky and awkward than the one-armed fighter. The second of the two did have the entire posture of a teenage boy or a puppy dog, which needed to grow into its body and paws first, while the first of them was broad-shouldered and muscular. He moved with such ease and confidence only a few men with a figure like his would ever possess. He was moving so swiftly as if he was weighing nothing more than a feather.

"I do!" The second one gasped and light blue eyes were flashing through the dark mesh of the mask, which should protect his face from injury and harm. He was out of breath already and his hits became weak, his counterattacks half-assed and his defense thin. It took the one-armed fencer only one targeted rotation of his body, one moment of inattention and confusion of the second one, to push the tip of his rapier into the soft padding of the dirty white suit of his opponent right into his left kidney. He played along with one loud groan as if he had been pierced by a sword for real and let himself fall to the floor and onto his bum before he ripped his mask off his head in frustration.

"That’s not fair, Malik!" The taller figure - the loser of today's little training session - started whining with the look of a petulant three-year-old plastered on his face. He was just a kid, really a puppy still growing into its paws, not even yet eighteen years of age and despite his size he had yet to learn a lot more from Malik, his older brother, whether he liked it or not (and really which younger brother would like to admit this anyway?).

"Tell me just one thing in life that is really fair, Kadar." The older brother sighed as he slowly took off his mask to reveal his stoic, yet slightly amused face, before he neatly put aside his mask and rapier and stepped again closer towards his brother. When he offered his brother his hand to help him up, to help him get back to his feet, Kadar did not take it right away. "If you really want to protect the prince - the future king - and the crown, by pouting like a toddler and by complaining how unfair the world around you really is, then I shall take a gloomy view of the future of our beloved kingdom."

Kadar was still sulking when he looked at his hand as if Malik could just as well have slapped him, but then he finally grabbed his brother's hand and pulled himself up. "Not the world is unfair." He then replied growling and pouting. "Only my big brother is."

Of course, that was just as hard as if the whole world would be against him. Malik could not help but laugh, though it sounded a lot more like a deep, dark rumble - like a thunderstorm approaching the little kingdom high on top of the mountains. "I fought with just one arm, how is that unfair? You would've won if you would've just tried harder."

"But it was your sword arm!" The younger brother complained once more. "Besides, _you_ are the one who will be protecting the future king and not me."

"We, the Al-Sayf family, are the royal protectors for generations-"

"Since Aquilus the first, yes-yes, I _know_." Kadar grumbled and freed himself piece after piece from his suit like a snake, which started to shed its skin, but Malik flicked him against the forehead with his stone hard and calloused fingers.

"Show some respect, Kadar." He said but amused by the way his brother winced at the attack. "Your time will come when you are ready for your duty. After all, it is quite possible, that you will have to replace me at some point. So don’t you dare not paying attention in your classes when you'll go back to the academy. You know _I_ will know. Don’t put our family's name to shame."

Kadar grunted meaningless, as Malik was quite used to by now. After all, he still was a teenager. "Fine." He sighed and then looked at the clock ticking above the heavy wooden door. "Altaїr will arrive in a couple of hours, right? Is all set and taken care of? Will there be a cake?"

"His _majesty_ , Kadar." Malik corrected dryly, as he started to get rid of his suit. It needed a wash desperately, but he could not run around the castle in this smelly thing of course. He needed to get changed first.

"You are still aware that _his Majesty_ has a first name, aren't you?"

"From now on he won't, at least not for _us_ and you need to learn that Kadar. We are no children anymore, neither of us and he will be king. And no: there won't be cake." Malik was already pulling up his black dress pants and closing his belt, when he was met again by Kadar's bright blue eyes, looking at him with a mix of disbelieve and anger.

"But it's his _birthday_! And if that’s not reason enough to have a big party: he hasn’t been home for years! If that doesn’t call for a celebration, then I really start questioning the mental health of our royal family." Kadar complained, while Malik put on his shirt and suit jacket, and this time he was right, _that_ even Malik had to admit. Of course, they did have any right reason to celebrate the return of the crown prince after seven long years, the whole palace was in turmoil because of the impending arrival of Altair, and yet, there was no time for some pompous birthday celebration.

"I think his majesty the crown prince has other things to focus his mind on when he returns as a birthday celebration." Malik replied, but Kadar rolled his eyes because of his brother's seriousness, which he so often could not wrap his mind around. Sometimes Malik feared for the future of his brother if he would continue lacking this sense of seriousness.

"But we are talking about the same Altaїr - _pardon me_ \- his majesty the crown prince, aren't we? For all _I_ know, he never had anything more important to focus his mind on than a party or cake!" It was a legitimate complaint after they knew Altaїr so long and well, but Malik again flicked him against the forehead and turned to go. He did not like talking about it, though he would never admit to it. Seven years was a long time for a person to change - a long time to wait every day for at least a short letter from a former friend.

"You should go and pack your things now, Kadar. And do not forget to shave! Your train leaves in the early morning hours and since I know you, you haven't packed anything yet, right? I myself have a lot to prepare and discuss with her majesty until the future king arrives." Many thought Malik being too stiff and serious, some thought him to be even cold or heartless, but Malik had confidence in his brother to know him well and long enough to know how it was meant. Kadar gave him a pained groan when his older brother left the room to step into the stone hallway outside the training room. At least one last thing he had to call after Malik.

"Say hello to the old lady from me when you bring her the five o'clock tea!"

 

 


	2. Little Golden Eagle

_In the dark of the night, the halls of the fortress were filled with the ghosts and phantoms of long forgotten times and wind whispering through the abandoned corridors, while outside a storm was raging violently, rattling on the windows and wind shutters. Deep beneath the stone structure and the sharp, black cliffs, waves were crashing against the black stone of the mountain and the froth spurted high in the dark sky above, forming myriads of newborn stars with each wave, though no one was around to applaud the water for its efforts - No one but a dark figure, roaming the cold halls of Masyaf castle._

_It was a man and he knew the halls and corridors well. He had worked and lived here for many, many years and he had seen this place during many different times. Now a dark cloud of grief, sorrow and uncertainty hung above not only the castle itself but also the kingdom as a whole. It was certainly not the first time he had seen his beloved home in a state of distress like this and clearly, it would not be the last time either, only the pauses between those phases of sadness seemed to grow shorter and shorter with each incident. So, what he was about to do was not a vile act motivated by greed or even hate, no, it was an act of mercy, purely motivated by the love he felt for his kingdom and the crown. He was sure one day the people would thank him for his action, but sadly, he would never know, for he was not planning to survive this very night._

_Not even seven days ago the king had died. Clearly a sad day for the whole nation, since King Umar Ibn-La'Ahad, the second of his name, had been loved by many across the whole country, he had been a man of honor, wisdom and dignity, and though his death was ruled an accident, it was clear to everyone that it was not._

_King Umar left behind only his young son of eleven years and his very own mother, this strong woman, which already ruled for many years in her son's place after her husband's death. However, this time the anxiety, which held the kingdom in its iron grip was different. The king's family was cursed and everyone knew that. Death was following the crown in the most gruesome ways._

_He grabbed the knife harder, so hard his knuckles turned white, before he stopped in front of the large door. The young prince always had a habit of sleeping in his father's bed, especially in nights like this one; still, he was certain he would find him in his own bed. He did not want to harm the prince, but if he would not do it, horrible things would happen to him. It was about time the constant fight about the crown would end and he could only hope and pray the gods would have mercy on him._

●●●●●●●●●●

The airport was already so far back, that the lights of the tower could not be seen anymore in this absolute darkness, which had swallowed the aircraft whole, even though it was – to the great surprise of the only passenger on board – a nearly clear sky and not, like feared before, a thunderstorm they were trespassing. It was not as if his fear would have been without any reason at all, after all, did the pilot himself warn him about the possibility of them needing to fly through a storm, plus it had been all over the news in the small airport the passenger needed to wait at. The flight was one hellish trip, no matter how comfortable the seats were made, but it was not so much the flight itself or the time it took, but the dreams that were haunting him since this week started. For years, he had not had a bad dream, but now … Well. He was going back home, he assumed.

 _Now_ , the passenger thought with a heavy heart, _at least a few people would have one thing less to worry about, if this plane would crash into the depths of the ocean below to swallow me whole_. Oh, what a tragedy! What a twist of fate for him, Altaїr, heir to the throne of the little kingdom of Masyaf, future king to be and first of his name, great-great-great-great-grandson of the great king Aquilus the first, Ibn-La'Ahad! In this very moment, when the stewardess handed him a fragile glass filled with sparkling champagne – for which he was technically still too young in a few countries of this world – he wondered if it wouldn’t be better for him to find an early grave in the embrace of the ocean.

Perhaps he should not be such a Debby Downer. Masyaf was only a very small kingdom, after all, surrounded by high mountains, for the most part, an enclave of an old civilization in the midst of a country torn apart by war, without all that much power or influence. Hardly anyone really knew about them! So what could he really do to destroy all this with his youth and stupidity anyway?

Though of course, they were a rich little kingdom with a great amount of natural recourses and fertile soil. Their borders were strong and highly secured so that enemies, whatever their name might be, could not overrun them all too easily. Moreover, Altaїr – just like his father and grandfather before him – was not ready to give his opponents what they wanted and thought rightfully _theirs_. They were a rather stubborn dynasty, that was for sure.

It was quite strange to come back home. Sure, he spent the biggest part of his life in Syria, yet by now no place in the world was stranger to him than Masyaf; no memories farther behind than those of his childhood inside this old castle on guarded mountaintops, which was always towering over the growing city at its foot. He was coming back to a dream he had awoken from a long time ago and he still was not sure if it was a good or a bad one for now.

When he was a child, the people around him told him it would be his duty to lead the kingdom one day, like his father with grace and wisdom, but he never understood what it really meant and during all those years he spent far away, he simply forgot. No, he did not forget. He buried the truth in the back of his mind. Altaїr wanted nothing more than to turn around, to get back home, and to get back into the real life, to Desmond in New York City, or even better back to Ezio in Florence so they could party all night long. Christ! He didn’t even know the name of the last person he banged before he entered this plane, how was he supposed to rule a kingdom then?

It was insane! He was a child!

His own culture was foreign to him and frightened him. He did not want to know a bloody thing about those conflicts raging in Syria or about religion and terror or rivalry. He wanted to enjoy his youth! How could anybody expect him to be a king after nobody ever showed him how it worked?

Well, of course, that was not entirely true. He was sent to the Auditores so he could learn from Giovanni, what it meant to deal with large amounts of money and how to lead, then to the Kenways, so he could learn about politics and all the different ways to influence other people with and at last to the Miles, to learn how to be humble and how to treat his subordinates equally and fair. All of them were a part of his big family, scattered across the globe, all parts of him, all different in their own way and each and every one of them did a better job than he ever would. He spent years and years forgetting the weight on his shoulders and how he did not know anything and now, suddenly, the weight had come back and was unbearable.

Altaїr risked one last long look at his wristwatch before he downed his champagne with one gulp. Midnight had slipped through his fingers like sand in the desert and now he was no longer allowed to drink or have fun. Now he was king. "Happy birthday." He sighed.

If it was not for his grandmother, if it was not for this wise and strong woman fighting against her illness, he would not have yet come back home. He always thought she would live forever, but now reality had smacked him right in the face with a shovel. He always thought his granny would protect him from becoming an adult and now he did not have a chance.

And oh, how much he anticipated seeing her again. And oh, how much he dreaded seeing her again.

For one last time, he moved to the toilets. Not because he needed to take a piss, but because he wanted to have a last look at himself in the mirror as he was now. He did not look like a prince. He was no handsome fairytale prince charming on a white horse, not yet at least. He was the party prince of some distant desert kingdom for the outlandish media. Altaїr knew by now that he was probably the biggest disappointment for his family it could have ever imagined with all his escapes. Oh, how should he step up to his grandma, after she probably only read mean things about her only grandchild until now? Would his driver even recognize him or would he mistake him for an American punk, with all those piercings? He was wearing his beloved dark purple hoodie and ripped jeans and the worn leather jacket. He already dreaded the moment he would need to change into suits and traditional clothing.

But finally, after hours and hours of flying through the night into an unknown future, the aircraft was landing and the golden eagle was finally coming back home after seven long years of absence.

Altaїr did not feel nervous when the plane was touching down. He was devastated. He already felt his freedom slipping through his fingers like sand. He only wanted to fly as far away as possible, but now he was the bird who came back freely to be caged and get his wings broken. There was nothing he could do about this. He was in no hurry, when the plane came to a halt, not even when he could see a car pulling up on the roll field, the light of the headlights glistening in the pouring rain. How fitting the weather was to his emotional state. There had been not a single drop of rain before, but now, the moment he was coming home; it started to pour from the heavens.

Maybe that was an omen.

For a moment, he watched the people on the field moving around the machine and he could already see his various suitcases being taken from the aircraft and being moved towards the big black car waiting on the field. Waiting for him. It was not always easy to remind himself of the fact that from now on people would wait for him no matter how long something would take him. It had been different in New York and in London and in Florence. There he had been just a boy. Just Altaїr.

Just Altaїr - Some boy with a name nobody could pronounce right.

Now he was a boy everyone in this kingdom knew and he had cars with the golden emblem of his family waiting for him. The stewardess didn’t find the courage to ask him to leave the plane (or rather if he wanted to leave the plane, for it was his and he could stay as long as he wanted), but Altaїr noticed her nervous glance at him after fifteen minutes had passed and he was still sitting in his seat staring into the pouring rain. He did not care for her, other than she was damn hot even with the dark blue Hijab she was wearing. He did not like that traditional style of clothing, but he would never deny anyone the right to dress as they wanted.

Finally, he got up - not because he found mercy for the poor stewardess who probably was tired and just wanted to get home - and slowly walked through the plane towards the exit, where the pilot was waiting for him. Altaїr hated the way those people always tried to lick his arse and thus he did not take the umbrella, the captain tried to give him, when Altaїr stepped out and onto the staircase. He just pulled the hood of his purple hoodie over his head and casually walked down the steps. While he was slowly walking down, he could already see a man walking towards him, a large, black umbrella already open to welcome Altaїr as soon as he would set foot on the ground.

 _That must be my brand new and improved shadow, following me around for all eternity from now on until I die_ , he bitterly thought and for just one second he thought about Malik Al-Sayf, his childhood friend, but the thought was gone just the very same instant it crossed his mind.

Syria got him back, the moment Altaїr set his left foot on the ground of his home country and yet never he felt more foreign anyplace else. He did have a hard time getting used to everything when he first left, that was a sure thing. It had taken him months to learn Italian, to get used to the smells and the upfront clothing and attitude of the people in Europe, which were as if from a whole new world for him with eleven years of age. By then he had only been exposed to Syrian traditions, to traditional clothing, to women in hijabs and burkas and to men with long beards and dark skin.

Only harder it had been when his time in Italy then ended and he then needed to go to England and after this to America, but he was a very fast learner and he got used to new things quickly. Every one of those foreign countries had become a home to him, the families he had lived with a part of his own being. He was missing every single one of them already quite dearly, when he watched the man, dressed in the black suit, getting closer and closer and closer – oh, this hangman of his, ready to lead him towards his execution.

Maybe he was a bit melodramatic, but then again his dreams -his nightmares - of the most recent time, told him not to question his fear of going back. He was never a really superstitious guy, but his family always made clear that he better should trust his guts and the signs he was able to see waiting along his path. And if not a bad foreshadowing of what was coming his way, what else to make of his latest nightmares then?

After all, his grandmother did have a damn good reason to send him to Italy by the age of eleven, only a week after the death of his father, after all. Back then, he did not understand of course. Back then, he felt like his own granny stabbed him in the back. But now he did and now he did not want to go back into the cage he left behind seven years ago and yet he had no other choice. Maybe, maybe he would have if he would have siblings. He always wanted to have a brother or a sister - not so much so that he could give the burden of the crown to them, but to help him carry the weight that was now resting on his shoulders alone.

He thought back to the Al-Sayfs, his only friends in this place. Malik and Kadar, two brothers in the midst of all this chaos. Oh, how he always envied them! For years, he just watched them play in the gardens and the courtyard, while he needed to endure lecture after lecture after lecture about long forgotten heroes and ancient times. He promised to write them letters when he left. He did promise behind a veil of tears streaming down his blotched face with snot running from his nose and a trembling bottom lip, leaning outside the window of the same black _Rolls Royce_ now waiting for him, but then he did not do it and he forgot about them.

Maybe a tiny part of him felt guilty, now that he could feel the thick drops of the cold rain falling down onto his hood like the hits of tiny fists. Those boys had been his best - his only - friends and yet he forgot them. It was not his fault though! Too many distractions had caused him to forget. Too many new people, too many new things he never heard of before, too much to learn, too much to enjoy, too many parties, too many false friends.

He wanted to go back.

"Welcome home, your majesty." The deep voice was much more like the rumbling of the thunderstorm that was about to hit the small airport near Masyaf. The kingdom of Masyaf itself was so small and the terrain so wild and raw that it did not have his own airport. Altaїr hated this, but the most people he told about this thought it sounded nice. Maybe it really did sound nice to those people. He did not look up, when the man held the umbrella over his head, only followed the gesture of his gloved left hand towards the black car without even muttering something as small as a _thank you_. His legs moved against his will, but his knees felt like pudding or like those of a toddler taking its first wobbly steps towards a stupid grinning father, while all he wanted to do was to run in the opposite direction.

Oh, he thought about all those times he had lain in some stranger's bed or in a hotel suite, not knowing how he got there and about all those times he spoke with strangers which names he did not even remember about being a prince. It never felt real to him though. It still did not. He thought about that one girl he met in Boston and how she started to fantasize about the prince in her bed and about being a princess herself. For her, he had probably been someone straight out of a fairy tale, a mysterious Arabic prince with riches, gold, and diamonds, able to take her with him and making her his queen so she would never need to worry about anything ever. In reality, though, he had been just a stupid teenager enjoying his youth, much to his Uncle William's displeasure.

All of them had been displeased with him, to be honest, and maybe even rightfully so.

The man in the black suit opened the door to the backseat of the _Rolls Royce_ for him and waited until Altaїr climbed inside before he closed it again and rounded the car to get into the car after him, sitting next to him in the comfortable back seat of the _Rolls Royce_ limousine. As a child, he used to love to drive around in this car with his father, but he rarely got the chance to do it and when he did, he always crouched on the back seat, looking through the back window of the car with big eyes until Mr. Al-Sayf told him to sit orderly like a big boy. Mr. Al-Sayf … the bodyguard of his father - his best friend, his most loyal companion. What would he think? What would Faheem Al-Sayf think of him now? What would he think of all the piercings he was wearing or the tattoos he got in the faithless west? Would he order him to take the metal off? Would he scold him as he used to do when Altaїr was but a kid?

Mr. Al-Sayf never made any difference between the prince and his own sons. He had been the only adult except for his father and granny, to treat him like a normal child. He had scolded him when he misbehaved; he had lectured him when he tried to get away with skipping classes while his old teacher was wandering through the entire fortress in search of the runaway boy. However, he too dried his tears when he did have a nightmare and he soothed him when he had hurt himself.

When he pushed back the hood off his head, he was well aware of the look his new bodyguard granted him. It was a look of utter disbelieve and anger boiling deep down in him. Very probably anger about his appearance, but Altaїr did not care about this. He was only a stain in a world full of stains. Only a peasant wearing expensive clothing, which wanted to play the bodyguard for a prince that was not even worthy of this title. The both of them were clowns, actors pretending to be someone or something they were not and Altaїr found himself briefly wondering if his father at least once felt this way too.

"Do I have something on my face?" Altaїr snorted and leaned back into his seat before he let his own gaze slip out of the window. This man's stare was almost unbearable, though Altaїr was used to get stared at on a quite regular basis. The car just left the airfield to drive out of the airport on a small passageway. It was a small rather private airport and one which was often used by the royal family of Masyaf and absolutely off-limits to regular people normally too. This was the airport were famous people, diplomats, politicians, royalty or really secluded rich people were trespassing.

"Please do fasten your seatbelt, your majesty." His new shadow answered, but Altaїr could hear the anger slowly dripping from his every syllable. All Altaїr did was to raise one eyebrow at this rather blunt comment and did as he was asked.

The windows of the black car were tinted, but he still was able to look outside and watch the streets they were driving through. For an eternity there was only emptiness, only blackness, only an eternal night and stars scattered across the sky like fairy dust. Of course, that was something one was only able to really see and awe in more secluded areas of the world were the smog and light pollution was not tainting the beauty of the night sky.

It was a weird day already, this 11th of January - at least he felt this way. His shadow did not say anything else for quite a while but every now and then Altaїr caught him, out of the corner of his eye, how the man stared at him in what only could be described as blind rage, his eyes ever so often fixed on the metal in his face or his ears. His uncles Haytham and William had been furious when he first disfigured his appearance like this. Of course, it had been Ezio who had been responsible for this, but he never told anyone. After all, it had been his wish (his kingly demand) to get holes shot into his body. A psychologist would have a lot of fun with him, that was for sure, after his worst nightmares included various people who tried to shot or stab holes into his frail body.

"So what is it with my face that you keep staring at me like this? I feel rather uncomfortable and-" His phone vibrated in his left front pocket and - the easy distractible teenager that he was - Altaїr simply forgot what he wanted to say to annoy the poor guy and pulled his phone out to have a look at the bloody thing. It was a message from his beloved cousin (his favorite one, one might say). It was not a normal message though, but rather a photo of Ezio surrounded by a group of beautiful Italian ladies in their short, short dresses, all blowing kisses towards the camera (even Ezio, his face nearly unrecognizable by the various stains of red lipstick in the shape of mouths) with the caption: _Why hello there, your highness! Have you already established your new harem? As you can see, I have and you can't have none of them! Happy birthday, little cricket!_

Altaїr was not able to hold back a small growl and he even felt how the thin scar on his mouth contorted and twisted in the most ugly way. "Yeah, sure asshole." Altaїr then hissed, the English words slipping over his lips as if it was the most normal thing, and threw his head back against the headrest - and again his new shadow looked at him rather displeased, his mouth only a thin line, his dark eyes nearly not visible in the darkness around them. For a moment, he reminded Altaїr on the old Mr. Al-Sayf - or maybe a little bit more on his wife, whenever the old Mrs. shooed them nosy kids away and (most of the time) out of her kitchen. A part of him liked looking back onto those _good old times_ , but the largest part of him would rather not, for the _bad times_ clearly overclouded those _good times_.

"What?" Altaїr hissed and turned his head, with its back still resting against the headrest in a way only a moody and clearly annoyed teenager would. "What is your fucking problem?" His Arabic was rusty to say the least. For a moment, the man's face looked surprised (somewhat), but he guessed that was because he probably did not expect someone to notice his stares. It was either that, which would also hint on the fact that this man probably thought him more stupid then he was aware or that he was so surprised because Altaїr confronted him like that, which would hint on the fact that he was a person not used to someone talking back to him.

For a moment, the man beside him was silent, but then he cleared his throat and looked straight ahead. The light of some car illuminated their backseat for one second, when it drove past them, but Altaїr stared down on his phone again. "Your majesty." The man then finally began slowly, carefully weighing his words. "I apologize in advance, but I need to remind you on the fact that Masyaf, though a small and independent kingdom, still is an Islam dominated Arabic kingdom."

"My mother was a Christian." Altaїr interrupted with one annoyed glare at the man sitting beside him.

"As are many of your subjects and the queen mother herself." The man spoke up again. Clearly, he would not be thrown off by that statement of the king to be so easily. Probably those bodyguards were going through some kind of seminar during their training to learn how to handle moody teenagers.

"Yes, I am aware. I am also aware that someone decided to put me in some ridiculous costume before cutting off a part of my dick when I did not have the choice which path I want to follow, what makes me Muslim against my will. It puzzles me though why you think you need to remind me on that." He hated that topic. Religion was never something he liked to talk about. He knew why his parents decided to clip him and he knew that he would have no other choice then do the same thing if he would ever have sons, but he still was mad. He still did not like this. If he would ever have sons to continue the dynasty in all its glory, he would probably suffer more than his hypothetical sons would when they would be clipped so early in their lives.

"Well, your majesty, because all the metal you like to wear as decoration in your face might cause suspicion that you may have forgotten how Islam handles this kind of disfigurement." The man's voice could not get possibly any dryer. He sounded a lot like someone who was talking to a lunatic.

"And I think that _Islam_ is not the one to decide what I do with my body or to dictate anyone how to handle their body. Plus, I think that _Islam_ is not the one who should talk about disfigurement, after it is _Islam_ who makes people cutting infant boys penises when they do not have the chance to fight back." He growled. Of course, during the past seven years he had learned a lot about religion and about different kinds of religion and religious practices.

The Auditore were a catholic family, taking their believes quite serious (at least the older generations). The Kenways, Edward, his wife Tess and his children Jennifer and Haytham, were a family of Protestants, not taking their religion all too serious. The other Kenways though, his cousin Connor and his mother Ziio were native Americans and were not religious at all but _spiritual inclined_ due to their heritage. And the Miles in the North of the US were probably called heretics at best in _his_ country or atheists in their own country, but liked to call themselves agnostics for they only believed in things they could proof but did not deny that there could be something like a god.

Connor and Ziio were the most easy ones to be around when the topic came to this field of discussion and their believes the most logical to Altaїr, at least most of the times. Now, after he learned so much about all those different religions first hand and heard of so many others too, he was quite sure that religion was one of the main problems of society.

The man was silent again, but of course, he would not give up like this. "You might be right, your highness. But, of course, you are aware that you, as the future king needs to act as a good example, thus piercings and foreign insults would not be the best to show off to your subjects."

"And I, of course, believe that you are not more than an employee and thus do not have the right to tell me what to do or criticize the king to be." He could already tell that this man hated his guts the way he looked at him - not that Altaїr would care. There were a lot people who hated his guts and a few of them … well, a few of them he would see from now on daily.

He watched in silence as the car drove through the large gates of the city of Masyaf, the capitol of the little kingdom, after over an hour of driving though serpentine like roads, passing fields and smaller villages shrouded in darkness. The city was still as Altaїr remembered it, old buildings from the middle ages stood side by side, the picturesque image only disrupted by the newer buildings every here and there. He had seen paintings of Masyaf when it had been just a small mountain village back in the 12th century and still he vaguely recalled his teacher (he had called him _Al Mualim_ , the wise man of the mountain) going on and on about the times when Masyaf as it now was, had been built and fought for its independence from the rest of Syria. _Al Mualim_ always talked about these things as if he himself had been there and maybe that was why Altaїr could still recall his lectures. It had been decades of war, until his ancestor, _King Aquilus the first_ , managed to achieve the independence of this enclave on the mountains of northwestern Syria. Back then he had been nothing but a soldier.

Al Mualim even told Altaїr that Aquilus himself never expected to be crowned king, instead he always expected his most loyal comrade which name Altaїr never managed to remember to be king and acted in his name. His ancestor seemed to have been quite a fool and he somewhat managed to pass this treat down until the very last generation. However the castle was still a reminder of that time, but back then it had been smaller, a fortress rather than a castle to protect the subjects in times of war, but as time flew by the village had grown into a prosperous city and the former fortress into a great castle, though the iron gates of the former city wall still remained intact. Masyaf castle still watched over the people below and with the castle (legend had it) King Aquilus, for he had been buried deep underneath the stone structure in the center of their memorial hall, a stone statue of his guarding his grave.

He could only see a few faint lights every here and there in one or two windows of some smaller houses, where people were either still awake or already awake again. The car took off a narrow road farther up the mountain. The streets of Masyaf were a tightly knitted network, small alleyways and narrow streets, but it worked. The people learned to adapt to this place for centuries. The nearer they came to the castle, the louder his heart was thumping and he could not help but claw at his seat. He could see the castle looming like a dark figure ahead and when they first passed the outer gate, he held his breath.

The car stopped shortly after passing the gate next to a small shed of a guard. Altaїr remembered the man vaguely, but did not think much of all this. He knew that they needed to walk the rest of the way towards the front door of the castle, after they would have passed the second gate, so he waited until his new shadow got out of the car and opened the door for him. The driver would surely take care of his belongings in the trunk of the car, so Altaїr got out of the vehicle and strode ahead to the second gate, waiting for it to be opened immediately, but to his confusion nothing happened. Instead, he heard the rumble of his still unnamed shadow's voice somewhere behind him, talking to another human being, very probably to the guard hiding in his little shed. Maybe it could be considered rude, that he did not even bother to ask for this man's name, that was form now on following him for the rest of his very probably short life, but he was but a servant and Altaїr did not really care for the name of his servants. Then again, one might argue, that it had been the duty of his new bodyguard to introduce himself to Altaїr the moment they met.

Just mildly annoyed Altaїr turned around, his slender hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie and he made sure that his face told of his annoyance very clearly, when he looked back at the two men speaking with one another. The moment the guard looked at him, the man nearly froze, but lowered his gaze immediately, clearly nervous in his presence.

Well, he often did have this effect on other people - mostly on young women though.

He had never seen someone with so much hair though. The man looked as if he really had a hard time to get his hair to behave at all though it was rather short, and his beard! - Oh, his beard! It was quite funny. This man looked exactly how Muslims often were portrayed in western countries by comedians, while his new bodyguard was well groomed, young and rather handsome, but Altaїr still did not really look at him. He would have plenty of time to do so.

"What now? Would you open that gate already? In case you didn’t notice, its January and its freezing fucking cold outside!" He growled, while the rain was still splattering behind that very gate down onto the stones of the courtyard, slowly flooding it. It was weird. He did not remember a single year he spent in this country, when it would have not rained on his birthday. Maybe this was a sign or _Allah's_ way to mock him. Tomorrow it would start snowing again surely. Right now, he could not see if the pinnacles on the parapet walks were iced, but it was very probable. Up here in the mountains it was always cold in the winter months and they got only three to four months were it was kind of warm (and when it was warm it was _hot_ at least one months).

His bodyguard turned to him and then gestured towards the shed. "Your majesty, my apologies, but before Rauf can open the gate it is absolutely necessary for you to come inside."

"And why is that?" He sighed, but did not start walking.

"You see, your highness, after your grandmother, the queen mother, increased the security checks for every person going in or out, who does not work here or live here, it is absolutely necessary for you to go through a small security check." The man stated.

"But I do live here." Altaїr growled.

"You do, your majesty, but this is the security protocol we need to follow in all instances. It will be quick." Was there the hint of amusement tugging on the man's lips and eyes? Oh, he was amused, was he not?! Altaїr clenched his jaw and stood where he was, his eyes drilling into those of his new arch nemesis, but he was absolutely calm and then Altaїr finally gave up, threw his hands up in exasperation and started walking. "Fine!" Altaїr hissed, shoving his way past the bodyguard and into the shed.

It was, indeed, the shed of a security guy. A small TV was running in the corner of the room (some game show for all Altaїr could tell), it smelled a little bit like food (a small plastic container was placed next to the TV) and there was a comfortable looking chair for the man was probably here for hours on end with nothing to do other than to be _on guard_. He looked a bit nervous though, when he hurried towards his desk, where his quite modern PC was running and grabbed a small metal detector. He was wearing a quite nice dark blue uniform with golden buttons and a few other golden details. He was glad that his security guards were dressed nicely.

Altaїr rolled his eyes at the sight of the nervous man with the metal detector, but his new bodyguard was blocking the door and thus his only way out right now. The man, _Rauf_ , slowly wiggled closer, after turning on the machine in his hands. "You majesty." He said meaningless and Altaїr only snorted. He hated being called that like _this_. It was as to remind him of his own status and he was very well of that indeed. Then the man slowly began dragging the metal detector over his body without touching him, clearly not expecting it to make sounds like it did. And with every new spike and every new beep the thing produced, his head grew redder and redder until he looked like a very hairy tomato. Of course the machine was not too happy with the state of Altaїr's face and head and thus with his pierced ears, tongue and eyebrow, but those were the things _Rauf_ had seen immediately. Now, the things he did not see were making him uncomfortable. First, it was his chest the thing made a sound and Rauf stopped.

"Excuse me, your highness, but would you mind to remove everything that is metal as for clothing items?" Rauf asked, though it was more like a request. It was quite obvious that Rauf only rarely needed to deal with a monarch full of metal.

Altaїr rolled his eyes again. "So, I believe you are searching for hidden weapons like knives and guns and stuff, right?"

"Yes, your highness." Rauf answered carefully (one might say shyly).

"And why would I bring hidden weapons with me? And even if I did, why would it concern you? Are you afraid I would try to assassinate myself?"

"That’s what the queen mother instructed us to do." _Bullshit_ , Altaїr thought. He could not believe that Rauf would check every guest like this. No, this was something personal and his grandmother probably gave this order specifically for him. She surely had seen pictures of him and the level of metal in his face.

"Fine." He sighed when he took off his black leather jacket and then his hoodie with the metal zipper. His belt followed shortly after and then the little bit of accessories he was wearing (a wristwatch and a simple necklace and a few metal bracelets). Without his hoodie and jacket, just standing here in jeans and tank top, he was freezing cold and already shivering. Again, an amused smile was tugging on his bodyguards lips.

Rauf repeated his actions, still his head ready to explode. And again, when he dragged the detector over his upper body, it made a sound and Rauf paused, but did not dare to look at him. "Your majesty." He began slowly, clearly ready to throw away the devilish metal detector and to run away down the hill. "All metal, please."

Altaїr sighed. "I don’t have weapons underneath my clothes, only piercings, for god's sake!"

This time it was his new and improved shadow speaking up after clearing his throat in a way as people normally would to remind other people on their presence. "My apologies again, your majesty, but you were long enough under the influence of the west so that we can't know for sure what you are carrying underneath your clothes. So, please, take off all of the metal you are wearing or I will _make_ you."

"I am the future king!" Altaїr hissed.

"You are indeed, but right now you are the crown prince and it is my duty as the protector of the crown to ensure the safety of the future king, but all the more of the queen mother, _so please_ , take off all the metal you are wearing."

"I'm afraid that is not possible." He finally commented dryly. "But of course, if the gentlemen insist that your future king takes off all his clothes out here in the cold of this shed so he can die an untimely death due to pneumonia. Believe me, good sirs, every bit of metal is exactly where it should be and where I want it to be." With that, he showed off his pierced tongue, so Rauf would understand what lied beneath his remaining clothes. "Not that I would have a problem to take off all of my clothes, only normally I would expect you to buy me dinner first."

His bodyguard did not look amused in the slightest any longer, instead his mouth was a thin line again, his brows furrowed, his dark eyes sinister like the pits of hell, when he took the metal detector from Rauf's hands. "Take off your clothes." He growled darkly and it was quite clear that he would not have any disobedience. He was working with his grandma, that was for sure. Rauf on the other hand only looked clearly uncomfortable back and forth between the two stubborn men. He did not want to be here at all.

Poor, poor Rauf! No! Poor, poor _Altaїr_! He should rather pity himself! He was not exactly shy or shameful, but he felt uncomfortable under the bodyguard's stare. "I don’t think that you have the right to order your future king to take off his clothes!" He growled with crossed arms. He felt extradited and more helpless than he originally did and should feel, because he already knew that he would not leave this room if his bodyguard would not have gotten what he wanted. So he held up his hands in defeat. "Fine! As you wish, your _majesty_ , but I hope I will get at least a reward for this show. My naked body does not come cheap."

He could of course go right to his grandmother and tell her about this humiliation brought upon him to get this man fired right on the spot. However, of course, he would not tell anyone about this and very probably his bodyguard knew this and forced him to take off his clothes because of this knowledge. So he took off his tank top and let it fall to the ground on top of his jacket and hoodie. He was rather thin, but that was to be expected due to his rather unhealthy lifestyle and his love for not really nurturing fast food. The first piercing twinkled from his belly button, another from his left nipple (nothing too fancy, only simple studs). Like this, he exposed the tattoos on his arms and another on his right hip too. The west really left its traces on him.

Oh, Rauf's face was priceless!

His shoes and his torn jeans too found their way to the sidelines and he only stopped undressing, as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of his boxer shorts, waiting for someone to say _stop_. He did not look at Malik, for he already knew that he was merciless and since he knew that he could just as well simply get it over with. Poor Rauf looked as if he wanted to jump off those cliffs into the embrace of the ocean, when the prince finally took off his boxer shorts as well. Not to mention that _down there_ ittwinkled just as much as the upper regions of his body did. When Altaїr stepped out of his remaining piece of clothing he grabbed it, twirled the bloody thing (black with a pirate flag on the ass) around his index finger only to throw it right at his bodyguard's face.

To his disappointment, the man did have good enough reflexes to catch it. He felt humiliated and he was cold and shivering, but he did not show anything of this - at least his pride forbid him to show too much of these emotions. "Satisfied?" He growled when he crossed his arms again, for he had no clue where to put his hands now that he was only wearing his incredible fashionable green socks. He almost expected his bodyguard to make him take off these too. He was not so very fond of his own body and yet normally he had no bigger problems to show it off to whoever wanted to see it. Still he was disgusted by all the scars disfiguring his skin or the lack of muscles his cousin Ezio liked to mock him about. Not to mention that he was chronically unfit. When he now looked at his bodyguard again, he could almost see how hard of a time the guy had not to rip all of the metal he was wearing out of his skin himself. He probably would have done it, if it would not have more dire consequences - especially in the lower regions of his body.

The room was completely silent and Rauf had the decency to stare up at the ceiling in embarrassment, while his new shadow only grabbed the hat that was included in Rauf's uniform, but now lying uselessly on his desk and held it to Altaїr. "Rauf asked you to take off all the metal you are wearing, please do so." He just said and Rauf only gasped for breath before he seemingly could not take it any longer and hurried cursing out of the shed and into the cold of the night. He was cursing about the frivolous ways of the western world, about his job and a little bit about the young prince as well.

"Are you fucking kidding me? You see now very clearly that I do not have any weapons at me! If you insist on checking my orifices, too I cannot stop you as it seems, but what I do with my body and wear as accessories is none of your business. No one has the right to force me to take off my piercings only because they are against the believes of this fucking stubborn culture!" Oh, Altaїr was boiling with rage. He needed to give up his life! He came back here only so he would be in chains for the rest of his life! And now they wanted to take away the rights he had over his own body too? Of course they did. Finally, he gave up and pulled the first piercing out of his eyebrow, then the next. It was a rather long process until he got all of the metal out of his body, but he worked fast and only a tiny bit embarrassed when he needed to grab between his own legs to do the job, but his new bodyguard stared blankly the whole time. When the last piece of metal fell into the hat the poor Rauf probably would never wear again, he sighed. "So? Are you going to check me again?"

He was not even shocked or surprised when his bodyguard grabbed the metal detector, which Rauf left in his bodyguard's care and drove it over Altaїr's body once again. This time it did not make a sound. "I don’t do this because I want to humiliate you, your majesty." He said and almost sounded sincere about it, when he was halfway done. "But you will be inspected by the high priest before the coronation and it is absolutely necessary that our king is absolutely pure and healthy in body and mind."

"Well I am not at all pure, I'm afraid." Altaїr sighed.

"It is to your own protection and we don’t want that your grandmother dies due to a heart attack before her time has come while she is battling her tumor so stubbornly." He then said and for one moment, their eyes met. There was this distinct feeling of familiarity, but before Altaїr could grasp what it was, the moment was gone and the man looked away again. "So stop behaving like a spoiled brat."

He was flabbergasted. It was not the first time someone would talk to him like that, but … Well, it was the first time a servant was talking to him like that. For just this moment, Altaїr did not know what to say to this man! "Well, aren't I lucky that I don’t have a metal plate in my skull?" He then growled. It was a lousy comeback, but well, it was worth the try.

"I would not have gone as far as to take a metal plate out of your skull." His bodyguard smirked and then left the shed only to leave him behind quite naked.

 _Soooooo? Yeah … that happened_. _Wow, I need to text Ezio about this._

Altaїr had no clue if he was _allowed_ to get dressed again, but as soon as he wanted to bent down to grab his clothes again, the door swung open again and his shadow came back with a pile of seemingly fresh clothes on his arms.

"Oh come on, what in the heavens is so bad about my clothes?" Altaїr moaned. By now, he felt like he really was having a bad dream. A real bad dream. But then again, that was exactly what was to be expected when one needed to give up his life, right? The bodyguard looked at him and did not say anything else, until Altaїr grabbed the clothes from him. Hell, he even got a fresh pair of underwear for him. Getting dressed in front of someone else was even more uncomfortable than getting undressed in front of some stranger. It was a simple black suit, Malik brought him and, to Altaїr's utmost surprise, it was the one his uncle William bought him a few weeks ago. It was only now that he noticed that he had not seen the bloody thing after he needed to endure hours and hours of finding the right suit. Did he really ship it to this location to ensure he would get dressed nicely before he entered his own home?!

Wow! They really were control freaks! There was only a small mirror in Rauf's little shed, but Altaїr did not like what he saw at all. Of course, the suit looked good on him, his uncle spent a fortune on that after all, but he did not look like himself. His messy hair was the only thing reminding him who he was and he was quite sure that this would be taken care of soon too. Fuck this place. Not even to mention that his new shoes were not only looking uncomfortable.

"Now, your majesty, it's getting late and I believe the queen mother wants to see you right away." The man then stated, but Altaїr, after leaving the shed in his new ensemble raised his brows at him, when he turned to have a small glance over his shoulder.

"She should rest and not be so stubborn!" He sighed. "It's enough if I would see her first thing in the morning!" He knew that his grandma was stubborn and that she always got what she wanted and he knew that she probably missed him dearly and could not wait to finally see him again. He on the other hand … Well, he was not so sure about meeting her right away. By now, it was around three in the morning and all he wanted to do was to go to sleep and forget about what just happened.

"That won't be possible, your majesty. Today you will have a lot more appointments to tend to and you won't have time to meet the queen mother then." Finally, the gate was opened, after Rauf hurried back into his shed, his head still throbbing and red, but when Altaїr moved through the gate Rauf leant out of his shed again.

"Goodnight then Malik! See you tomorrow!"

For just one second Altaїr stopped in the middle of the unfriendly wet courtyard and turned around. _Malik_ was coming his way, the umbrella in his hand again. "Oh fuck you!" Altaїr moaned and finally, finally!, there was a wide grin appearing on Malik's face.


	3. The Ugly Duckling

Malik was following him like a shadow from the moment he entered the fortress to the main entrance up until he arrived at the door of his grandmother's chambers. Yet, never in his life had he felt more helpless and alone. Back when he needed to leave this place he had been afraid, for he had never seen the outside world before, but now he was afraid that he would never see it again. First, he had missed the windy corridors and the cold halls, now he just wanted to flee again. Everything was just as he left it back then and yet everything was changed. No Malik running after him trying to catch him, no Kadar sitting wailing on the stone floor because he fell, no maids giggling about them naughty boys and no Mrs. Al-Sayf shooing him out of her kitchen. The castle was eerily quiet so late at night, though most of the servants were still up or already up again. It was much too quiet for Altaїr's liking, but he remembered that it had always been like this in here. He needed noise and people! He needed chaos! He needed not to have the chance of thinking too much about his life from now on.

He wanted to pull up his hood again, but he did not have a hood right now anymore. He did have nothing to hide under or to hide behind. He could not hide behind his father anymore and he would not be able to hide behind his grandmother from now on. The old lady had reigned this kingdom for many, many years. She outlived her husband, his grandfather Aquilus the second, who died an untimely death such as many of his ancestors before, and reigned in his place until her son, Altaїr's father Umar, had been old enough. With twenty-one years of age, his father had accepted the crown of his mother's hands and his reign had been praised by many to be one of the most pleasant times the kingdom ever experienced. It often seemed to Altaїr that the subjects liked to be ruled by his family exclusively and of course, they had been for centuries! Sometimes he thought the people liked to forget the bad things their monarchs brought upon them every now and again. He had been born quite early in his father's reign, but he had never known his father as something different than a king, so his grandma, then retired, had looked after him a lot.

And when his father died, Altaїr had been only eleven years old, so his grandma had needed once more to take the place of the king to rule in her grandson's name until he would be old enough, no matter that she had been battling her illness back then already. She would have let him come back later, as she did with his father. She would have let him study abroad until he would have been twenty-one, but time and health would not allow her this luxury this time and Altaїr knew this pretty well.

He did not need to look up once, when he walked through the endless maze of corridors and hallways, for the layout of the castle was still engraved in his brain and every fiber of his being. Here in these halls, he had been born - here he would die.

"It's getting late, your majesty." Malik spoke up again and only then, Altaїr noticed that he stood in front of his grandma's door for at least a good five minutes pondering about his life and future. He spared himself the embarrassment of looking at Malik; instead, he knocked on the door and waited until his grandma's chambermaid would open for him. A monarch never opened the doors he needed to go through himself.

He felt sick, small, and naked when the door was being opened from the inside by a young woman, her eyes narrowed onto the floor. Back in the western society he would call this behavior flirting or being shy, here he knew it was mainly self-protection and of course politeness in the face of a monarch. He would not have looked at her anyway - not now at least, not under these circumstances. Still, with the door open for him, he remained where he was frozen in time until Malik gently shoved him forwards.

Of course, Altaїr knew that Malik was not allowed in the room and that the chambermaid would leave him and his grandma alone too, yet rather he would have both of them in there, chatting away the dark and silence.

It was warm and dark inside his grandma's bedroom, which was only one of the many chambers she occupied. Before he could step into her bedroom of course, he needed to pass the living room and he would have much rather not. Only a small lamp was illuminating the scene standing on his grandma's bedside table just as he remembered it. The first thing he saw of her was her pale, thin hands lying on top of her thick blankets, covered in dark marks, boney and weak. He always loved her gentle hands and her thin, elegant fingers. His father sometimes mocked him that he did in fact have his grandma's hands, this was every time he started doodling in his classes and was scolded by his teachers.

His grandma liked to draw too.

"Altaїr, my sweet little eaglet." The thin voice of his grandma sounded from the bed, still full with love, though he was not naïve enough to trust this right away. No matter the state of her illness or her age, he would be scolded properly if that were what she indeed wanted to do to him! "Oh, don’t stand there like a fool, come closer!" She then chuckled giving her voice the strength and color he was used to.

Still, his heart felt heavy when he stepped closer. He was dragging his feet after him as if he was still five years old with sticky hands ruining her furniture. Suddenly he felt ashamed for his hair and for his tattoos and for the piercings, Malik forced him to take off - and for all the escapades and excesses making headlines all over the world. Finally, he reached the bed and sat down on the mattress heavily without looking at her old wrinkly face, when he grabbed her hand a little more greedy than he was ready to admit.

"Hi there, Granny." He mumbled. Of course he was not allowed to call her that when they would be in public (which was outside this room), but in here she was his granny and he was her eaglet, her little fledgling that was not yet ready to fly on its own. "How are you?"

Finally, he dared to look at her face and it was exactly as he remembered, only with one or two age spots more. She was a lot paler though than he remembered and her hair, she would normally hide under her Hijab in contradiction of being a Christian woman, was grey. Her blue eyes though were still made of steel and he always wished to have inherited those same eyes. He did not. He got his father and grandfather's brown amber eyes. A characteristic trade of the men in his family, one once told him. And of course, the men of his family, the leaders of this kingdom, they did great stuff and they were great personalities with great visions who empowered their people, but he would've loved to have a little bit more of his grandmother in him, for she had been the force behind the power figures that were her husband and son.

She smiled at him fondly, warmly, but it was a tired smile. Her whole face looked tired. Not tired from the day, but tired from reigning so long, tired from the life she had lived, tired from the world and the losses. To Altaїr it was quite clear that she was only still alive because she wanted to see her grandson one last time and suddenly he felt overwhelmed by this love, another human being was able to feel for _him_.

"I like your hair." She smiled and stretched out her hand to touch it, so Altaїr leant closer down to her so she could reach it better and drag her thumb and fingers over the shaved sides of his head. "It's so soft! Just like when you were a baby. Oh, I still remember your moron of a father being scared to death because you would sleep so much."

"I liked sleeping." He shrugged his shoulders with a thin smile pulling at his mouth. "I still like it."

"Yes, so I've heard, especially you like sleeping with a lot of different women." She then said, but there was still the hint of amusement in her eyes.

"Sorry for that." He murmured with a small mischievous smirk on his face, but his granny just pinched his cheek softly. There was still strength left in her thin hands, though not as much as he remembered. "I didn’t mean to cause you so much trouble."

"Oh, yes you did." His granny sighed, but there was no accusation in her voice. "And I do understand. You are so young, you wanted to enjoy your youth and you did. However, it would have been better if you would have been a bit more discreet about it, but I guess this kind of behavior is just part of growing up. After all, I sent you to the Auditores and I know our dear Ezio well. I should've known he would be a bad influence for you - and his young sister Claudia is no better influence than he is I'm afraid. Well, who would've thought?"

Altaїr managed a smile at this. He and his grandmother were a sworn team right from the start and he loved her dearly, after his own mother died in childbirth and he never got the chance of meeting her. Witnessing his grandmother now like this, so weak and old was incredibly painful to him - much more than he would ever like to admit. He only knew her as this strong, independent, tall and proud woman - with wrinkles, yes - but brave and without fear for the road lying ahead. She lost her husband, son and daughter in law and yet she never caved in, never gave up, but resisted the illness once again to fight for her grandson's place in life. She could as well have just given up back then. She could as well have retreated from this stage and let the Sofians win this fight for the throne that went on way too long anyway. But she did not. For him. Instead of being a whiny brat about it, he maybe should be glad and try to make her proud as long as she was with him still, right?

Tired he gently began playing with her hand, as he liked to do when he had been still little - though of course, in his grandma's eyes he would always be little. No matter that he would be crowned king in the next few days, for his grandma he would always be her little boy. "Do you forgive me though?" He mumbled and she laughed.

"There is nothing to forgive. But do you forgive me for sending you away like this?" _Like this_ meant after a stormy night in which some insane person tried to murder him in his sleep with a giant fucking knife. He did not have the chance to contemplate what had been happening to him and why he was sent away back then, but now he did. "I was worried for your safety, for your life, if you were to stay here. Losing you too would have crushed me. I wouldn't have survived losing you."

He lowered his gaze, mainly so she would not see how wet his eyes suddenly were. "There is nothing to forgive." He simply answered with a half smile. "I didn’t understand then and I was angry, but I do understand now." Because at least this was the truth and even if it was not, it would not be right to make accusations now. The only thing he maybe would not forgive her was that she ordered him back. Of course, he had been afraid then, because he hadn't known what was happening to him, but it had been better than fearing for his life every day."But … You could've at least warned me about Malik."

This time her amused laughter was a little bit louder, a little bit stronger, even if it was a bit hoarse. "But you should've known about him!" She smiled. "The Al-Sayfs are the protectors of the royal family since … Since forever, eaglet!"

His cheeks grew hot in shame for not having thought about this during the past seven years. Now, of course, it was plausible to him that Malik (his former best friend), was his bodyguard. He should have known right from the start! Was he really so self-centered? He knew that this was what his grandma thought, but she would not say it, after all, he was a prince and an only child - of course, he was kind of self centered, right?

"Did he already annoy you?" She smirked. "Why, that was quick, but I bet you gave him no other choice." He snorted.

"Shouldn't you be on my side?" He then murmured, though perhaps his granny was right. Perhaps he behaved like a spoiled brat. Perhaps Malik's treatment of him had been well deserved.

"Oh I am, sweetheart, I always am." She snickered and patted his knee, because obviously she had a hard time raising her hand enough to pat his head, if he would not bent down for her first. "But he was the perfect choice for the job. He is a hard worker, just as his father was and he was the best of his class. He even graduated with being specially honored by his academy last year. I do trust him, after all he was in my service up until now and I part from him with a heavy heart." She then smirked playfully.

"So I was right that you guys were working together. I knew it." He grinned. No other servant, no other bodyguard would even dare treating him like Malik did before and probably not even Malik would have, if it wouldn’t have been for his persistent grandmother.

Her face did look a little bit smug, when she gently brushed her fingers over his hand. "I did not like all those nasty piercings you were wearing." Shen then admitted cheekily.

"Figured." Altaїr snorted.

"But you don’t really seem happy to be back home." She noticed and Altaїr felt his skin growing hot underneath his collar. He was ashamed – at least a bit that his granny noticed. He only rarely felt something like shame at all, but whenever he was with his granny, he did. He felt guilty to let her have noticed how decidedly unhappy he was with all this.

"If it was for me, I would not have come back anyway." He then finally sighed. Of course, he could have lied about it, but it was not fair to lie in his grandma's face. She always said he should be honest with her, no matter how hard the truth may be.

"Figured." She gently sighed, but she kept her smile, oh and Altaїr would have loved to curl up next to her and rest his head at her shoulder as he did when he had been little. "I know, love. No one would want to carry such burden, but the way you will handle it will show what kind of a king you will become. No one expects you to handle every dire situation perfect right from the start or to always make the right decision. You are still so very young, you are allowed to make mistakes, but you should never shy away from asking for help. But what you do with the advice you will get is solely up to you, eaglet." He loved listening to her soft voice, loved the melody behind it and the way she always was able to make him feel at least a little bit better. "The same thing I told your father when he, only three years older than you now, came to me in a desperate search for an answer. I know he did not understand me back then, but later he was thankful for my advice, just as your grandfather was, after he threw up in the most expensive china vase the castle ever owned before he was crowned."

For a moment, there was silence, but then he chuckled a bit. Yes, he could see his grandpa getting sick all over the place, though he never met him. Such a shame. He had seen portraits though and he must say that he and his father and grandfather looked very much alike. "I guess, the nervous stomach runs in the family."

"Oh it does. So please, Altaїr, tell Malik right away so he can walk behind you with a bucket. Those poor maids back then needed days to clean the vase! But whatever you decide on doing, I trust you and I have faith upon your big heart and your messy head, that you will do the right things."

He could not help but grin a bit, though a bitter thought already crept on the outlines of his mind. His father did not grow very old and his grandfather did so too. Shortly he pulled up her thin hands to kiss them, just as she used to do when he was but a child and ill in his bed. He had been quite a weak child the first years of his life. "Tell this to Malik. I would assume he will start cutting my hair tonight when I sleep or flay my tattooed skin." He was not made to be king and that he felt with every fiber of his being, but he trusted his granny. "Father always seemed to know exactly what he was doing though." At least as far as he remembered. He did not really knew him as a father. To him and all the others he had been the king.

"Oh he never did, but he trusted the people advising him." She laughed. "And a king never needs to show his insecurities to the outside world. On the inside most of them are torn. That’s part of life. And for Malik … he is only but a boy too. Learn from each other but do it with respect and honesty and you can be the best of friends again."

"It was nice being normal." He then sighed. "Nice being just a normal boy during those last years."

"I would've loved to let you enjoy your life a little bit more, but I am tired, love. Now give your granny a kiss and then go to sleep. It was a long day for you too and you cannot grow grey hairs already." Altaїr nodded and pressed a kiss to her wrinkly cheek, before he got up. He did not like this. At all. When he reached the door of her bedchamber though she stopped him once more.

"Oh and one more thing, eaglet." He turned to face her lying in her way too big bed, looking way too small all of the sudden. "Happy birthday."

●●●●●●●●●●

It was his father's room. The reality of this hit him not quite as hard as he would have expected. He would have loved to say that it hit him like a sledgehammer to the head - but in fact, it was more like being hit by cotton balls … one at a time. It was more like a drizzle of understanding, slowly dripping into his mind. Of course, it was his father's room. It had been his grandfather's room before it had become his father's room and now it was … his. It was the king's chambers. Well, he should have expected to move into this room, right? He somewhat _did_ expect it - though … not really.

"Is everything to your delight, your majesty?" He almost slapped Malik. He really did. Fuck this fucking fuckhead! Letting him stumble around like a bloody fool without telling him who he was! He surely enjoyed harassing him like he did! He surely found his joy in leaving him in the dark about his identity!

"Oh shut up." He sighed. "You fucking dicktart…" There was a small chuckle, an earnest little chuckle from the door before it was closed in his back, leaving him in these rooms as if he was suddenly locked up in a cell. When he turned around, Malik was still there and a part of him was simply glad that he was.

"What does _dicktart_ even mean?" The man asked and for the first time since Altaїr was back, he finally looked at Malik more closely. If he was not mistaken by the distance between them he would say that they were about the same height by now, though Malik had always been the taller one - of course, for he was the older of them too. Now Malik was a broad shouldered tall guy, his eyes were really as dark as the pits of hell, though - in the right lighting - they had the color of dark chocolate (Altaїr's favorite kind). His jet-black hair was well groomed, just like the goatee he was sporting in his face. Altaїr only rarely met men who could wear a beard like this, but Malik looked good with it. He really was one handsome motherfucker - unlike Altaїr - and a part of him was curious what muscles he was hiding underneath that suit. _Oh, Altaїr, you are in gay-hell_.

"It means … well _twat_!" Altaїr exclaimed when he strolled through the first room of his new chambers. The king's chambers were more like a very large comfortable flat and the door coming from the hallway led straight into a small foyer and then straight away in the big living room he now owned, fully equipped with high-end entertainment electronics, though Altaїr really questioned he would use any of this as much as he was used to. No more loafing around with Desmond, playing stupid video games. No more sluggishly lying on the couch and watching movies on Netflix with the Italian stallion all day long. There was a sitting group built out of two large comfortable looking sofas and two big ass armchairs. All of the interior was modernized at some point but Altaїr recognized most of it from his father's times. The room looked as if it had just been cleaned and polished only for him, the walls in soft shades of a gentle beige with golden highlights every now and again, the floor mostly out of thick European beech wood, if not covered by a soft looking crème white carpet. Oh, he could not wait to run around barefooted.

"So I believe _twat_ is some kind of compliment then?" Malik grinned when he turned to him for just one second and shortly Altaїr thought about correcting him, but then again Malik surely knew perfectly well what _twat_ meant.

"Yes, let's call it that." He smirked, finding himself looking at Malik way too long for his liking. "Why did you not tell me who you were?"

Malik seemed not really all that mad that he did not recognize him right away though – or he refused to show it at least. "Because I assumed that you was intelligent enough to know it right away." He then stated. "After all I recognized you right away."

"Wow that was difficult right? After my photos were all over the news lately! I would have assumed that you would have recognized me at the latest when I was naked from the magazines! To my defense: Seven years can change much about a person!" Altaїr frowned, strolling around restless inside his new living room. From here, he would be able to look straight into his bedroom if the door was open, but now a rather large white double wing door was blocking his line of sight. Of course, much of the stone structure of the old fortress was still visible all around the castle, but the insides, the large halls and rooms had been modernized as time went by. Another large door was probably leading to the bathroom. A part of him wanted to take a bath, but then he much rather wanted to fall into his new bed and just drift off to sleep.

"I was fourteen when you left! How much can one man possibly change in seven years?" He laughed. "Other than this my family members are the bodyguards of your family since forever! How could you not know that I was going to be your bodyguard?" Altaїr almost sensed that Malik wanted to call him _moron_ , but he did not, mainly because they were no children anymore – no _friends_ anymore, right? After all, Altaїr never stuck to his promise of writing to Malik, so he probably forfeited his friendship.

"Well!" He only exclaimed and let himself fall down on his new sofa. It really was just as soft as he expected it to be. "You look different." He concluded stubbornly.

"Yes, I know most people say I look like my father." Malik then stated dryly, but stayed where he was. He always was a very dutiful man, even as a child. Malik rarely broke the rules (most of the time it had been Altaїr not sticking to them for he was the prince) and Malik always met the expectations other people had for him. Now he was the perfect role model of a royal bodyguard anyone could try to imagine. There was this distinct level of professionalism radiating from his whole being, from the way he stood at the door and watched him with sharp eyes like a hawk. He was open to Altaїr as it seemed, but reserved nonetheless.

"I would say you look more like your mother." Altair then answered with a faint smirk. He still felt weird in this place. He still felt misplaced, still felt like a kid, which was wearing to big shoes. He would probably never grow into his father's shoes, though everyone was expecting that of him and he was afraid that he would never meet their expectations, no matter what his granny told him, no matter how understanding she really was, Altaїr was fucking afraid. All he wanted to do was to jump out of this window or from his balcony and fly away, but he could already feel his wings crippling.

Malik finally made big eyes. "Like my mother?" He huffed, a dark scowl on his face.

"Exactly." Altaїr then yawned. "You look exactly like her, especially when you look like you do right now. I almost expect you to shoo my out of this room every minute now."

"Oh, I will shoo you out of this room, your majesty, whenever you needs to be shooed." Malik explained, the dark scowl remaining on his face, for he still did not get the compliment behind Altaїr's words. "Your majesty, I believe you would like to take a bath after this straining and very long flight, so I already arranged for the bathtub to be ready by now. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Are you my butler or my bodyguard?" Altaїr sighed.

"Both if you need me to be. Your butler and maids are asleep with a few exceptions and I thought it would be contra productive to haul them from their beds this late at night, for they will be busy during the next days to prepare the castle for your coronation and the festivities going along with this. As long as it is to your liking I will fulfill both duties." Of course, he would. He was Malik Al-Sayf and the Al-Sayfs were the most diligent and hardworking people Altaїr had ever known. He did not even appear to be tired. Malik probably did not even need to sleep. No, Malik would just prefer to hang from his curtain rail, head down and doze a little until he was being needed again.

He was still mad at him for humiliating him in front of Rauf, still was mad about the way Malik treated him. The way he greeted him in his own home not even an hour ago was beyond anything-old friends would do. He hated being pushed into a corner like he had been by Malik before. "Where do you … I mean, where are your rooms?" He then asked, maybe a bit too careful, for he could see the hint of amusement again in Malik's eyes. Surely Malik would sleep in a room nearby so he would be able to hear him if something happened.

Then Malik strode towards a narrow white door near the entrance, Altaїr did not even see at first. "My rooms are located behind this door – of course only for the time working. I do have another room in the castle for my days off."

"And when do you ever have a day off?" Altaїr sighed. The royal bodyguard surely would not go on vacation all too often he assumed, but he was glad that Malik would be near – at least a tiny part of him was. Even if he would order Malik to take a few days off, Altaїr was sure that Malik would refuse. He was a man married to his work, that Altaїr could already tell, for he remembered Malik always talking about how he would become just as good as a bodyguard than his father was, when they were little. _I'll be your bodyguard and then no one will ever hurt you again_ , Malik promised and unlike him, Malik would surely stick to this promise, no matter how much he now might resent him for his dickish behavior. Malik did not answer, only cocked one eyebrow. "Are the windows secured by an alarm system?" Altaїr then asked as he rose again to stride towards his bathroom.

There were no bars in front of the large windows (of course not), yet these halls seemed like a prison to him. Maybe he was paranoid for even asking that kind of question, maybe he was over sensitive, but he would never forget the night a dark figure had loomed over him with a large knife in their hand to cut his throat. He still got the little scar at the side of his neck and he would never forget the sound of guns being fired or of the sound when a bullet was ripping through another human being's body.

"They are indeed, just as the door to the hallway and my doors." Malik then answered and for a moment, Altaїr was almost positive that he could see pity written all over Malik's stern face. "Nobody gets in or out without me noticing." Of course, he did not have another choice than to believe that Malik was right and that he would indeed protect him as best he could. Malik was a man who always stuck to his promises, he always had been, he always would be.

However, Altaїr suddenly did not even recognize himself. He felt intimidated by his new surroundings, weak and small. He felt like a doll in a colossal dollhouse. He felt like a five-year-old, trying to walk in his father's shoes for the first time. He felt as if he was shrinking with every passing second. Where had the big mouthy teenager vanished too? Where was the teenager who liked to make party all night long and fuck all kinds of different people? Where was his self-consciousness? But Malik sounded a lot more forgiving right now. "If there is anything you need from me, don’t worry about calling me. I am at your service day and night." The young bodyguard clarified at last before he made a court bow in his direction and stepped closer towards the door leading to his room.

Altaїr looked after him, but he did not stop Malik from retreating, because of course his new shadow too had had a rough day and needed rest – no matter that resting probably meant to hang from the ceiling like a bat as he already established. Suddenly he felt extremely ridiculous. It was not at all like him to shy away or to feel so small. He was the big idiot about which the world was laughing. He was the moron who went into a tattoo store under aged without even thinking twice. He was the one true twat who ran around sleeping with everyone and their brother (quite literally even), dying his hair the most ridiculous ways and kicking everything his religion and culture felt sacred about. He wanted chaos just for the chaos sake. His whole being just screamed in agony to make a mess out of this place, but now he was standing here and was asking his new bodyguard if he was going to be safe like a small child asking his father to look if there were monsters under his bed. He did not say anything to Malik after this and just waited until the door was shut behind his broad back.

●●●●●●●●●●

Malik leant heavily with his back against the door in his back and drove his hands over his sleep-deprived face. Oh, he was so fucking tired. His day had started around five in the morning (like every single one of his days) and up until seven he had been busy with his usual workout routine, then he had taken a shower, got dressed and started with his normal duties. He enjoyed the days he could spent near the queen mother (queen grandmother to be, to be more precise), enjoyed talking to her and he profited greatly of her wisdom and sharp intellect. Still, even with ninety years of age she was one of the most sharp-minded people he ever known and she never treated him like an employee but part of their family – because he was. The Al-Sayfs and the Ibn-La'Ahads were family, had always been and would always be. He liked this status, though there were many other talented and hardworking bodyguards moving about in this castle. Of course, the security was high in this place, but they were not like him. They were guards; he was the personal protector of the king to be. A job he always had been quite proud of.

How should he have known about the fucking brat Altaїr became abroad? Oh, Altaїr had always been a noisy, annoying brat – that was nothing new. When Malik first met him, he had been rather little. Of course, Malik himself, only four years older than the monarch had only been eight years old at that time, but Altaїr still had been quite a little five-year-old boy. Of course Malik noticed before that Altaїr was watching him and his baby brother from afar, mostly when he had been bored to death by his teachers for little Altaїr needed to endure lectures from quite the early age onwards. Of course, there was a lot to learn after all!

But oh well, he really, really was a brat. Even brattier than his own little brother, yet Malik liked him.

Maybe he should apologize for the way he treated Altaїr before, when he made him undress in the middle of the night in some shady little shed of their security guard, after all they had been friends once. And yes, maybe ( _maybe_ ) Malik's behavior up until now had been a direct result of his offended pride, because of the letters he had awaited but never got during all those years. He remembered jumping up and down in excitement next to his father while he sorted through the letters of each day, his hands grasping for letters never to arrive. Maybe he was still a little bit offended by all those letters and postcards (birthday wishes and greetings from home) he had sent to Altaїr but were sent back because of a wrong address. Maybe he was still hurt, because Altaїr not even found the time to write him an email in those modern times they were living in – at least an email! A sign of life! Instead, Malik was spammed with scandalous photos and meaningless news of the party prince from the foreign desert kingdom (which was no desert kingdom at all! At least not right now).

Maybe he had been naïve, because of the way he kept thinking about Altaїr all those years, yet he found himself in a position, which would not allow a non-professional relationship between him and his former best friend. He would have loved to play the obedient servant to Altaїr, as long as he would have known they at least were on eyelevel behind closed doors, but this was not the case and his previous actions – well! – Maybe they were just an act of revenge. It had been the wish of the elderly monarch that Altaїr was to leave all his piercings behind before he would enter the castle, yet he would not have needed to make him strip.

He found himself listening to his surrounding, just as he was trained to. He listened to the little noises from the bathroom of the king to be (Malik had his own of course) and to the ticking of his alarm clock next to his bed. Normally this room was not used. Normally he would sleep in his other quarters a few doors down, but for now, he would rather stay in Altaїr's presence to keep an eye on him.

Silly, wasn’t it?

It was already four in the morning, when Malik finally lied down on his comfortable but small bed. It was enough for one adult, but no way two would fit in this bed. Then again, why should he even think about this possibility? Of course, he was to marry some girl he did not want to marry and of course, he was to have at least one son to keep up the traditions (though every daughter of his would be able to kick ass just as well!) and when this would happen he would not stay in this room anymore anyway. Altaїr too was to be married. Was he even aware of this fact? Probably not.

With a small sigh, he finally closed his eyes, still wearing his black suit, listening to the world around him, before he then slowly drifted away into a thick slumber, though always ready to act quickly. He was living a life on alert at all times.

No wonder his father died of a heart attack.

●●●●●●●●●●

_"He stares at us again!" His little brother complained with a pouty red face. His brother was not yet four years old, but wanted desperately to play with his eight years old brother, though he was still wobbly and clumsy, when he tried to keep up with his older and quicker brother. Of course, Kadar with his almost four years was adamant to show that he already knew all his big brother knew and could do everything his big brother could do – not to mention that this was false._

_"Who?" Malik sighed when he helped Kadar up to get back to his feet. It was a hot day out here and though it was much more chilly inside the castle, Malik preferred to stay out here before the weather would get bad again anyway. He could already spot the first rainclouds ahead on the otherwise clear blue sky and the sun was shining bright and mercilessly down onto the plateau on which the garden of the fortress lied. Malik loved to run around the gardens with his little brother, though Kadar only just learned how to walk and still needed a hand to cling to._

_"The boy!" His brother moaned as if his brother was the slowest person, the most imbecile, he ever met. Kadar was normally quite lazy, but today it seemed his interest in moving was ablaze! Well, in one month he would turn four finally and would start kindergarten down in the village, while Malik would go back to school, after these weeks of freedom and fun (and his mother tormenting him with chore after chore)._

_Malik followed his brother's eyes, as they stared into the general direction of the rose bushes along the castle wall. They had been planted only a few years ago, in memory of the late queen. Malik still remembered her vividly, after all he had been (almost) four when she died. He remembered how she used to roam through the castle with her swelling belly, always cheerful, always full of life, always nice and gentle. Never a harsh word was to leave her mouth. Oh, and she had been so beautiful! Malik had only seen Arabic women his whole life, except of her. Women with dark hair and darker eyes, with sun kissed skin and wide clothes, some would wear hijabs, some not – but all of them were strict (more than their husbands)._

_Queen Maud on the other hand – well. She and her light hair and her blue eyes … No wonder the king fell in love with her when they met abroad during his studies in Cambridge. His father told him, when the king came back to be crowned king, he brought the queen with him, always rambling about her beauty and her gentle spirit. The day she died was a sad and gloomy for the whole kingdom and the king had been devastated and it had seemed he not even found joy in the birth of his son, the prince._

_Malik only saw the prince once when he was a baby, for his father was not only the king's protector, but also his best friend, so he took Malik with him one day to show him the baby in its crib. That was the day Malik came to the conclusion that babies were weird. Even his own baby brother had been weird when he was born._

_No, there was nothing cute about babies._

_Now the rosebush was twitching ever so slightly, when Malik looked at it and then back to his brother. This boy was following them around for a few days now and watching them for weeks! It needed to stop, this was nonsense! So, Malik straightened his back as his father would and let go of his little brother's hand, before he strode towards the seemingly quite frightened bush to confront the plant now once and for all._

_Malik stopped in front of the bush, his hands in his hips as his mother did when she was scolding him for leaving stains in her normally stainless perfect kitchen. "Come out! Stop hiding!" He ordered the boy in the bush with a firm commanding voice. Oh, he already knew whom it was hiding behind that bush. There were not many children running around the castle's grounds and Rauf was way too old to hide behind bushes!_

_It took the bush a moment to react to that, but since Malik did not go away, the bush needed to accept that he was busted. Another moment passed and then the bush was rustling again, the tiny leaves shaking in fear, before the boy behind it got up. There were leaves and crumbs of dirt and rose petals in the prince's hair, when he got up and a stain of dirt on his left cheek. It appeared as if the boy had cried before his little sneaking attack on the two Al-Sayf brothers, for his cheeks were still blotched with red stains and a little bit wet – no wonder the dirt was sticking so nicely like war paint to his face._

_The eyes of the prince had almost the color of gold, just like his fathers, but he was a whole lot paler than his father was and his hair was a lot lighter than his father's were. Malik knew well that the prince tended to watch him and his brother playing in the gardens or running around the castle. He often caught him looming around a corner, carefully peeking around it, thinking he will not be seen. A little bit, he reminded Malik on the queen, he had much of her, he could already see that._

_"What are you doing? Why are you following us around all the time?" Malik demanded from the young prince, while the child was trying to get out of the bushes without falling onto his face or bum. Because, while the prince liked to watch Malik and Kadar playing, Malik already spent a good amount of time watching the prince from afar. Therefore, he knew in fact that the prince was quite the clumsy individual. He always fell when he tried to run, always landed right on his face and started wailing the second he realized the faux pas._

_"I…" The prince began, slowly fiddling on the brim of his top. The poor guy was forced into those traditional clothes just as well as Malik and Kadar were, but of course, his clothes were much more expensive and noble than theirs. Now his wide pants had not only stains but also holes. Maybe the king should start considering buying jeans for the prince or at least less expensive clothing. "I just…" His voice was way too tiny for a prince and Malik could not help but cock one eyebrow at his behavior, though admittedly his own heart was racing in his chest. He never spoke to the prince, always seen him from afar, like this godly being always floating above his head. Most of the times he saw Altaїr sitting in the dusty library with his teachers, being bored to death._

_"You just what?" Malik hissed, while he could already hear the stomping feet of his baby brother approaching the scene on wobbly legs, not at all able to balance his body in the slightest. "It's creepy!" He explained to the prince and watched how his cheeks turned even redder, but then, surprisingly, the prince did not back off._

_"You should not talk to me like this. Don’t you know who I am?" The prince then asked, fury already visible in his honey golden eyes, when he stared up at Malik (though his bottom lip was trembling again)._

_"I do." Malik dryly shrugged it off. "You were the most ugly baby I have ever seen, your majesty."_

_Prince Altaїr was flabbergasted, all of his wits gone up in smoke, just as his fury. Malik did not even know were those words had come from or if he would get slapped for being so impertinent towards the prince and future king, but he thought about the way his father treated the prince. Malik often spotted his father talking to the prince or caring for him when the king would not find the time (and he often did not find the time to care for his son) and the way his father treated Altaїr was … normal. He did not make any exception between his own sons and the prince as it seemed. So … why should_ he _?_

_"But you can play with us, if you want."_


	4. Time And Time Again

_The room was stuffy and the air heavy with the dust from the old books and ancient manuscripts lying around all over the place. There were a few glass cabinets standing between the large bookshelves in the library of the ancient castle, displaying old maps of the city and even older contracts and declarations concerning the small kingdom that was Masyaf. The sun was doing her best performance this late august afternoon, shining brightly through the high windows and heating the room up to an almost unbearable temperature. Of course, inside the castle it was always a lot colder than outside though._

_The library was a quite large room, almost as large as the throne room perhaps even, but a place of quietude and peace and never off-limits to the staff or the inhabitants of the castle. A long time ago, every inhabitant of the city below was free to come here and learn about the world. There even was a large brazen globe standing right in the center of the hall-like room, almost as high as a grown man and almost as round as a sumo fighter. That was at least what description the ten-year-old prince had come up with at one point. The globe was his most favorite thing in the whole castle and the library his most hated place to be, for here he was being tormented by his teachers and tutors with lecture after lecture. The library was his prison, built only to contain his energy and natural urge to go outside and run around all day._

_The staff did not like him to run around outside (or to run at all for that matter), simply because no one wanted to stand the chance of risking any ever so little injury on the heir to the throne. His nannies were always in uproar when they would spot the young prince_ playing _like every child his age would. Maybe (Altaїr liked to think) he would be granted much more freedom, if he would not be an only child. Oh, how he wished for an older brother or a brother at all! Someone else to take the crown one day! Someone he could play with at least! Someone to distract the ever so worried nannies for when he wanted to slide down the handrail of the large staircase again._

_But the globe, yes, he liked to stare at the ancient thing, a relic itself from the days this castle had been built. It was said, that this very globe was the basis of the whole castle and that every little wall, every ever so little stone, had been built around it afterwards. Altaїr liked this thought. He liked thinking of his ancestors as if they had valued knowledge and wisdom above all else. But of course, they had been only human, so that was not really likely, because even with ten years of age Altaїr was already well aware of the fact that humankind was one stupid race._

_However, today Altaїr found his eyes captivated by the window. But no, not the window in itself, but the world outside this window. From the library, he could see the gardens behind the castle and he almost thought that he could even hear the waves crashing far beyond against the black stone off the cliffs. Of course, that was not possible, not from in here at least, for the thick walls was blocking every sound and every little opportunity. The old man was still rambling on and on, but Altaїr stopped listening to him quite a while ago._

_First, there was a rustling in the bushes in front of the window (Of course he could not hear it, but he could see the bush rustling and shaking), then, there was the tuft of black hair he was oh so familiar with by now and lastly a pair of almost black eyes, carefully peeking over the edge of the outer windowsill. Malik Al-Sayf was four years older than Altaїr - and his best friend he was too. He was his best friend since Malik shoved him with his face into a puddle of mud for annoying Kadar, his baby brother (because no matter Malik himself was annoyed by his little brother, no one but him was allowed to torment Kadar and everyone who tried was to be severely punished). He was the first person not to treat him like the prince he was (with exception for Malik's father and his own grandmother of course) and Altaїr loved this trade greatly._

_He could see the little dimples around his eyes Malik always got when he was silently laughing or grinning and then Malik motioned to him to get out. It would not be the first time Altaїr would have sneaked out during his lectures of course, but today-_

_"Malik Al-Sayf!" The deep voice of Altaїr's mentor bellowed towards the window and he would have thrown the book if it were not for its age. Malik ducked down immediately and was gone almost instantly, leaving the captured prince behind with a sigh. Oh, freedom was so close and yet so far away._

_Altaїr had no other choice than looking at the spot Malik just vanished at, staring longingly into the world outside that was denied to him. The last days of August would pass and he would be locked up inside the castle until autumn would hit. He was not allowed to go outside when it was raining or snowing or when it was just cold and miserable outside for he could fall ill._

_He was but a bird in a golden cage._

_"Altaїr." His eyes remained focused on the window. "Altaїr." The voice was a little louder now and much more stern, telling him that the old man would have none of that bratty behavior. Still Altaїr hesitated a moment until he looked at his teacher. Al Mualim (that was not his real name of course) was a quite intimidating guy with his tall figure and his long beard and this blind eye of his or the scar (he once told Altaїr he got that scar in a battle for life and death, but Altaїr did not really believe him). However, as intimidating as he was, as friendly he was too. He had a good heart and a soft spot for the young monarch in his care. Though he was only one of many teachers, he was Altaїr's favorite one._

_"Altaїr." Now it was a sigh when he closed the book with a heavy thud, that he held in his hand. Altaїr was already quite used to hearing his name in a sigh like this._

_"Yes, Sir?"_

_"Can you tell me really anything about the declaration of independence of Masyaf from the rest of Syria?" His good eye was staring right into his soul as Altaїr looked up at him with big eyes, trying to look as innocent as possible, while he desperately thought of a witty answer. Sadly he was only ten and his wits probably not all too developed by now. Maybe next January when he would turn eleven. He was sure he would one day wake up and be as sassy as Malik. That was how it worked, wasn’t it? At least Malik told him so – then again, Malik told his little brother that a ghost was living in their toilet._

_"No." He finally admitted in a quit voice, fully aware of the scolding he would get._

_"And why is that?" Rashid grilled him further._

_"Because … Well, because … How did Aquilus the first even become king? I thought he was but a merchant!"_

_For a moment, his teacher seemed taken by surprise, but then he laughed and sat down in front of Altaїr again. "You mean a mercenary, Altaїr. A merchant is someone who sells goods on the market for example. But you are right, he was in fact a mercenary - or at least that is how his career started at least. He was an orphan you see and as an orphan you did not had much of a choice back then. He became a soldier later on, fighting his noble cause for his home Masyaf against the trickery of the sultan and the nobles of Syria. He fought for the young noble man whom he thought should be crowned king."_

_"Who was he?" It seemed he escaped the scolding for once._

_"Well, his best friend to begin with. His family was the richest of the small city that then had been Masyaf, a descendant of a noble line, but a soldier at heart. In his diaries Aquilus liked to call him the king of swords and emphasized that he had never known a greater fighter or a better friend, though they had their troubles from time to time."_

_"So?"_

_"So what?"_

_"So how did Aquilus become king and not the noble man?"_

_Again Rashid laughed. "Aquilus was no wise man, Altaїr. His friend on the other hand was. He had seen that the people of Masyaf trusted Aquilus more than they trusted him for the crimes his ancestors committed against the small town. It is rumored that he never wanted to be anything else than a soldier, so, when the day came, he refused to take the crown and tricked his friend into taking it."_

_"Well, that was mean." Altaїr concluded with a frown. He did not want to be tricked into becoming king, that was for sure!_

_"Yes, Aquilus thought so to. So what he did was that he forced his best friend to sign a contract binding him and all his descendants from then on to serve the line of Aquilus as their royal protectors."_

●●●●●●●●●●

Altaїr was awoken by the sound of rain smashing against his windows as if the drops alone wanted to break his window at all costs. "Your majesty." A voice ushered him out of bed. "Your majesty it's time to get up." Oh and he just wanted to play the petulant child he was in not getting up and crawling deeper underneath his blankets. He did not want to get up, to move or to face the world. He wanted to sleep for he had slept so little this night and he felt he would never find real sleep ever again.

"No…" He moaned and for the first time in his life, he had a hard time talking in his mother tongue. His cousins always made fun of him when they caught him off guard and he would reply to them in Arabic, but suddenly he did not know the words any longer. Maybe his brain was blocking off everything that was concerning his home.

"Your majesty, I know it was a short night, but today you won't have as many appointments and a little time to relax on your hands." The voice promised.

"No…"

"The sooner you'll get out of bed, the sooner you can get back into bed." He could hear him rummaging around his room, opening the door to the dressing room, while Altaїr shoved his head under the pillow. He was never one to sleep much; perhaps a relic of his childhood in which he rarely got a good night's rest. The nights of his childhood had been shaped by nightmares and the constant fear to feel a blade to his throat again – if he was to wake again. Every night he had feared to be awakened by flames engulfing his bed or to be informed about the death of yet another family member. This night, however, he had been granted a dreamless slumber for once, though he had almost expected it to be peppered with night terrors again.

It took him one moment more, until he heard Malik coming back for him. He knew the man would rip away his blankets and force him out of bed, if he would not surrender right away, so Altaїr sat up, wrapped in his cocoon of blankets, shivering with cold. Oh, he really forgot how cold it could get in this fortress. Maybe he should have put on his pajamas – or at least a pair of socks. Malik was standing near his dressing room and Altaїr could see him hanging the black suit he had been wearing yesterday to the doorknob. Of course, he did not have any other suits for now and he briefly wondered what might have happened to his other clothes. Surely, Malik had burned all his beloved hoodies while dancing around the flames laughing like the devil he was.

A fucking handsome devil.

Well, he was doomed. Of course it was still weird seeing Malik like this – as an adult (as an adult with authority) and not as the fourteen year old teenager Altaїr left behind when he fled to Italy. Now that Malik was this handsome motherfucker and not this awkward teenager with the stubbles growing awkwardly out of his face, not really decisive on growing a mustache or not, Altaїr started regretting his decisions in life greatly.

Of course, he was known in the press as this playboy, shagging all kinds of different chicks just like his older cousin Ezio (because Desmond was way too awkward to even get a girl to notice him and Connor had more important business on his mind than some random girl), but reality was a whole lot different. Yet, he was almost glad about the picture the yellow press was painting of him. It spared him a great deal of inconveniences.

"So … What's going on today?" Altaїr yawned and not even had the decency to cover his mouth with his hand doing this. Why should he? Malik knew him almost all his life! He had seen him naked yesterday already! There was nothing to hide anymore really. In horror, he witnessed how Malik pulled out a small black notebook from the inner pocket of his black suit jacket and opened it. Suddenly he felt as if this was going to be a much longer day than Malik first let him believe to trick him out of his bed.

Not much later Altaїr felt horribly hungover, but sadly, he did not even have a reason to. There had been no party in his honor. No drinks. No bare breasted girls dancing for him (no hot dudes trying to flirt with him without anyone noticing), no strippers like Ezio always promised to him – Hell, not even a cake! It was his birthday, he was an adult now and yet he did not even get a fucking cake while everywhere in his little kingdom people were celebrating _his_ birthday and the return of their crown prince. Everyone was celebrating and having a good time in his honor – everyone but him. No, he had only slept four hours at best and was now standing on a small stool while he waited that the poor tailor would prick him with one of the large needles by mistake, while he was fitting the clothes he needed to wear soon.

Altaїr was swaying as if he was drunk on his little stool in the middle of the fitting room, but he really was just tired and could almost not at all keep his eyes open whatever the costs ought to be. His condition did not grow better later that day, while Malik was opening doors for him, leading him through his home as if he was but a stranger. Oh, Altaїr was sure that Malik had at least a few comments on his mind about Altaїr's behavior since Malik came into his bedchamber to wake him, engulfed in his cocoon of warmth. Altaїr had not even been surprised, when he noticed the storm raging over Masyaf on this eighteenths birthday of his. The weather gods paid him their tribute as it seemed. Once his grandma told him that there had been a thunderstorm when he had been born – and by now, he really believed her. It was almost as if this country would not want him to be here. Well, he could not blame it!

Until noon, his day had been shaped by _not so many appointments_ , as Malik had called it. For Altaїr it had been hell. He had gotten his breakfast quite early in his own chambers, if only because the tailor had been there quite shortly afterwards. He had spent hours and hours with the tailor in the fitting room, trying on all different kinds of suits and traditional clothes until the tailor had been satisfied with the results and left. After this Malik had ordered a hairdresser to come and take care of Altaїr's too long too messy hair (of course against Altaїr's very clear expressed will). After the hairdresser was done with him, his hair had been quite a lot shorter, but at least Malik _allowed_ him to keep the sides of his head shaven a bit shorter than the rest of his head. He liked it actually. It looked a bit more clean and fresh than before, though of course, Altaїr would never admit to it.

After this, he had been forced to endure one boring ceremony, which was called _a small gathering_ to welcome him back home with a lot of shaking hands from strangers, whose names he did not care to remember. There were a lot more people than he had originally expected, after Malik ensured him that it would only be a handful of important people wanting to see him right away and congratulate him to his eighteenth birthday.

"Do you even know that it is my birthday today?" Altaїr finally moaned, after they left the throne room where the welcoming ceremony had been, so he could tend to his other appointments of the day.

"I do in fact know that, yes." Malik stated, but Altaїr could almost hear the dry smirk he fought back so bitterly. This was Malik's revenge, Altaїr was sure of that, and it appeared as if the man enjoyed every second of it.

"And you do realize that normal people do not work that much on their birthday's right? In the real world one would go out to have dinner with his friends and family, eat cake and let himself get celebrated solely for existing!" Normal people on the other hand would not let themselves get crowned king on their birthdays either (or soon afterwards), though thankfully it would not happen today. He would have a few days left until the coronation would take place but until then there would be a lot of gatherings still to attend to. For a moment, he stopped at one large window overlooking the inner courtyard of the castle. From this point he could see the city and was briefly wondering what the people down there were doing or thinking of him. Surely, they had seen pictures of him.

Were they maybe even disappointed with the way he turned out?

"I doubt that in the real world people just loaf around all day on their birthdays."

"Well, yes, they do! I've experienced it for seven years! You should have seen my cousin Ezio! If he is to move at all on his birthday, it's considered a miracle! You are supposed to let yourself get spoiled rotten on your birthday!" Oh, he liked thinking back on his first birthday (the twelfths to be exact), away from home and in the care of the Auditores. Maria Auditore was just as he always expected an Italian mother to be: stern, strong, authoritarian and the undoubted head of the family, though she let her husband believe that he was in fact the head of the household. She loved nothing more in her life than her children and the death of her youngest child after just a few months had scarred this strong woman greatly.

Altaїr would never forget how afraid he used to be because of her – well, every last member of the Auditore family was. You simply do not fuck with an Italian mother! Ezio told him that and yet Altaїr needed to learn this the hard way. Still, no matter how strict she had been, when his birthday had come one year later, she had woken him up with soft kisses to his forehead and a cupcake, as if she was a whole other person. He had spent the whole day doing whatever he pleased to do and no one told him not to. It had been heavenly.

During his time with the Kenways, it had not been all too different. Edward, the head of the Kenways had ensured that Altaїr would have all the fun he could imagine (perhaps he wanted to triumph over the efforts the Auditores made) and the Miles-family, though the most normal of all of them, had taken him out on adventures into the mountains around Boston or the vast woods surrounding the countryside. However, from now on he would have nothing of all this any longer as it seemed. No more adventures to go on. He was an adult now. Perhaps that was the reason. Perhaps they spoiled him rotten for he was only a child then and now he was an adult. A king to be. The thought alone frightened him nearly to death! How was he supposed to take responsibility for all those people living in his kingdom? _He_ of all people! He could not even take responsibility for his own actions!

"Maybe we can make a note for next year then." Malik finally stated behind him, but he did nothing to force Altaїr to move again, instead he let him stare out of the window. He would like to go down into the city and be close to the people, to hear them talk about him perhaps. Wow, that really was narcissistic, wasn’t it?

"Maybe." He sighed. There was no point in making a fuss about all this or to throw a temper tantrum, only because he did not get what he really wanted. Because, what he really wanted was his freedom.

It was noon by the time he finally got to the large dining hall and he would rather not, for he already knew what was awaiting him on the other side of that door. Normally he would have enjoyed being able to taste all this delicious food he so dearly missed in those other countries, but today he did not even feel hungry. Now he felt more as if he would throw up if he needed to take a bite of really anything.

Yet the guards standing on both sides of the double wing door opened the doors for him, while yet another announcer (he was already tired of them) announced his arrival. Chairs were scraping over the marble floor, when Altaїr stepped inside the room. There were people - not a whole lot of people - standing around the large table made of old wood. It was the small dining hall. Of course, they had a few of those, it was a castle after all. He liked this one the best though. He always loved the old wood paneling of the walls, which reached as high as the doors were. He loved the painted walls, showing long forgotten tales of this land and culture or the marvelous design of the rounded ceiling, where balks were arranged like a mandala. Of course, the old chandeliers had been switched for more modern ones, but all in all everything in here looked old and reverential, especially the large old fireplace. As a child, Altaїr often spent his time in this room, sitting on the floor right in front of the fireplace and enjoyed the warm shine of the fire. Nearly every room in the castle had his own fireplace, still a relic of the old times though of course they did have central heating now.

Nine people were gathered around the table, four on each of the long sides, slowly turning towards him, when he entered. A few of them smiled warmly at the young prince, a few of them did not. The spot on one end of the table was occupied by his grandmother, who did not get up from her chair (and no one expected her to). Only the spot on the other end of the table was still free for him. Shortly he looked at her and she only granted him a soft smile. He knew his guests for Malik briefed him the entire morning with various pictures of all those people. All of them oh so important, but Altaїr's brain still refused to memorize their names. Maybe, if those folks would recognize him to be a bad leader, they would not crown him as one.

Then his eyes met the Sofians, this family of social climbers, watching him with sharp and hungry eyes like a pack of wolves, ready to rip him apart limb by limb the very moment he would make one wrong move.

They were the real reason he could not let his grandma down. They were the beasts preying on the crown for decades and decades now. They were the ones feeling pretermitted. They were the ones in desperate need for power. The Sofians tried to out rule them for generations now, so long in fact that it could be almost called their family business. So, what were they supposed to do, if Altaїr was to refuse the crown and his birthright? They would finally get what they so desired, but what should they do then? Whom should they try to murder then? No. It would be heartless to give them what they wanted, right? At least that was his grandmother's approach most of the time.

Maybe it would be best if he would follow this example of hers.

However, the Sofians were not the only persons in the world who hated his guts, that was for sure and he himself was feeling only resentment for them. The problem was that there was no proof, no evidence that it had been them killing his father or sending an assassin after him. For all the world knew his father died due to an accident, as his grandfather did (and as he would if he would not be able to stop that nonsense). He had no legal rights to erase them from the court. The Sofians, father and son, were like serpents craning their heads to follow the young prince with their eyes, when he moved to his chair.

Altaїr listened to meaningless compliments and even more meaningless conversations of his guests while he tried not to choke on all the sugar they were trying to blow up his ass. By the time the Sofians turned to him he already downed five cups of coffee, though he normally preferred tea and though his bladder already started to protest. He tried to focus on Malik still standing near the fireplace, his watchful eyes on the guests like an especially old owl, ready to attack if necessary.

"Your majesty" Ahmad Sofian turned to him, his spine just as straight and rigid as a broomstick. "I hope you enjoyed your time abroad and were able to learn a lot from your outlandish families." The way he emphasized the word _outlandish_ , sounded almost like an insult, but no one seemed to either notice or care except for Altaїr. "But of course, we are all glad to welcome you back home after that long time."

To Altaїr it was quite the miracle how someone was able to spill so much venom and hatred with each syllable and still made it sound like the most nicest words in the world. At least Altaїr was used to this kind of behavior by now. His uncle Haytham taught him all about this, for he of all the people Altaїr knew, mastered this trait greatly. Maybe he should have listened to him more closely. He wanted to have a witty comeback, but that was for another day, as it seemed to him. "Thank you, Ahmad." He simply replied with a smile, no matter how false it was. Oh, of course they all knew that the Sofians wanted to kill him favorable right away and they all knew too that Altaїr would love to kill them right away or at least get rid of them in some way or another. "It was a blissful and informative time. I was able to learn quite a lot from my families overseas."

"Oh I do believe you did." Ahmad smiled, his dark eyes drilling into those of the much hated young prince. He could not stand to lose _his_ crown again and this time of all people to a so very young and inexperienced child! That was it, wasn’t it? That was the sole reason for Ahmad Sofian's hate for him, right? There could not possibly be another reason! He never did anything to wrong him or his son Abbas! Yet they loathed his pure existence - and a tiny part of him felt as if his mother's death might not have been a tragic twist of fate too. Better not to think about it too much. "In fact we all have seen what you have learned, your majesty. But I do hope you learned something else but partying and under aged drinking."

"I believe it is not considered a crime to enjoy oneself from time to time, right?" Altaїr replied and bit back his snarl, but tried to appear as calm as possible.

"It is not, your majesty. But I do believe you cannot imagine the outcries of your subjects when we saw you in the magazines, your majesty." - "And we did _all_ see you." His son added with a snarl. He looked like an ape and Altaїr could not remember a time he looked anything else but an ape. Fucking fuckhead. Abbas had always been that nasty slime ball lurking around a corner, prying on him like he was about to murder him in cold blood for the _injustice_ his family experienced through all those years.

For a moment, Altaїr found himself locking eyes with Malik and he was sure that Malik could read his thoughts - and with that knew that Altaїr had no fucking clue how to escape this situation. "Well" He slowly began. "As you are well aware it is quite hard to escape the media - especially in the US." Only shortly, he glanced at his grandmother sitting across the table watching him with her sharp eyes, but when their eyes locked, she only smirked. She looked a bit more healthy than last night, still she was pale and thin. He remembered her to be quite round, when he was a kid, though the illness was at war with her for many, many years already – and both sides were not willing to give up.

"I think the people of our beloved kingdom are not so narrow minded or old-fashioned that they are up and about to go on a witch-hunt only because a few ridiculous photos of their prince being drunk." His grandmother stated with a dry smile, before she shortly glanced at the clock. "And I believe, Altaїr my darling, you need to go now, right? Isn't it about time for your next appointment?"

It was not and she knew this pretty well, but she probably also knew that Altaїr's right knee was bumping up and down already, nearly hitting the underside of the table, and that he simply wanted to escape this room. He could not stand those people any longer, trying to sell him their daughters and asking him about his time in Italy or wherever. Well, it was his own fault, right? He should have known that those questions would be raised as soon as he would get back home again. Perhaps a tiny part of him did know but tried to not think about it.

"Yes" Altaїr finally replied when Malik hurried his way to drag back his chair, so he could stand up again (Really, that was ridiculous. He was not used to getting pampered like this anymore.), and he gave his best not to stammer at all while he said this, not when his grandma was softly smiling at him. Oh, how he had missed this very smile! Now he needed to get up and escape this room, which was what he did with a few court words of farewell. He would see those figures again anyway, sooner or later. This was insanity.

It was not quite as easy to walk with dignity and his chin held high, with a full bladder protesting with every little step the young monarch took. Still, Altaїr was quite proud of himself that he managed to get out of the dining room without hobbling around at all. But, the moment the door was closed behind him and the moment he found himself on the hallway again, he started hobbling around, fumbling on the plastron he was wearing around his neck (like a noose). That was, until a pair of strong, firm hands stopped him, grabbing his shoulders from behind to get him under control. Malik started loosening the plastron from behind with skilled ease and only then gently shoved him forwards towards a small door. "The bathroom is over there at the corner on the left hand side, your majesty." His bodyguard murmured from behind him and Altaїr immediately wobbled towards the bathroom to hide behind that very door. "You're good!" Was all he chanted before the door was slammed shut behind the monarch.

While he was going about his business in the small bathroom, he really was contemplating if Malik would be the better king for this kingdom. _King Malik_ , well, it was in his name, was it not? He was the king of swords after all. A king guarding a petulant prince. It appeared as if names were not always the indicator for one's life. The moment Altaїr left the bathroom again Malik awaited him with a serious face (nothing new there really) and Altaїr realized that the hardest part of the day was yet to come. Until now, he was met with just little inconveniences. He needed to endure the tailor groping him (Malik said this was how measurements were taken), to get his hair cut off by a young hairdresser, to greet his guests in the throne room and have lunch with those filthy beasts. Of course, now he would need to take care of business, right? At least he was spared any further social gatherings for this day.

Therefore, when he first stepped into his father's office, he knew that he would spend the rest of the day in this room and yet he was at least a little bit thrown off. Malik closed the door behind him like he always did and while Altaїr simply stood where he was, trying not at all to look at the portraits hanging on the walls, he did not even hear the steps of Malik closing the distance between them again. Suddenly Malik's hands were on his shoulders again, grabbing them firmly and lifting them up.

"You need to work on your posture when you're out there. Shoulders up, back straight, chin up – not so high." He commented dryly while Altaїr followed his instructions and suddenly felt again like the little boy prancing around the castle with a book on his head. "You looked quite arrogant before. Try to minimize that. No one likes an arrogant monarch." At least that was true, still Altaїr shook off Malik's helping hands and sluggishly staggered towards the big ass wooden desk to drive his fingers over the wood. It felt warm, just as if the sun would have warmed it only a moment ago, no matter the raging storm outside. The large window was right behind the big ass, comfortable arm chair and Altaїr still remembered how kingly his father had looked sitting right in that very chair, whenever his son was brought to him. In here, he had looked much more like a king than when he had been sitting on his throne. But as for that matter, Altaїr only rarely saw his father sitting on the throne.

He did know that he would take his place, not only his throne, but his armchair, still he felt the blood oozing from his face. Slowly he rounded the desk ( _his_ desk, his father's desk, his grandfather's desk) and discarded the mountains of paperwork on it for the moment. Malik was silent for now, but Altaїr had not the leisure to really think about him right now, when he slowly (devoutly) sat down on his father's chair. As a child, he never sat in this stool, for he had not been allowed in this room all too many times.

He remembered Mr. Al-Sayf bringing him here every now and then, when his father wanted to talk to him about his studies or the complaints of his various teachers. No matter that, Mr. Al-Sayf tried his best not to let him feel like a convict being dragged in front of the judge, he did feel exactly like this. Now he was the judge himself. Almost he could hear his own little voice murmuring apologies towards his father, almost he could hear him sigh when he thought his son could not hear him anymore ( _"Faheem, really, I don’t know what to do with this boy. Why can he not be more like Malik?"_ ).

On the left hand side of the long, wooden paneled office walls still hung the large portrait of his mother and father, joined shortly after their coronation and on the opposite wall, facing the portrait of the late queen with her husband, hung still the portrait of the proud young king with his son. Much rather he would have wanted one portrait on which the three of them were united. Almost Altaїr forgot how beautiful his mother had been. Her taint had been fair, his father's dark as Malik's and he, the result of their love, was not just as dark as him and not just as fair as she, still his whole life that he spent in this country, everyone looking at him had been able to tell that he had been a _half-breed_. He never understood the fuss about this. It did not matter, right?

It did not feel right sitting on this chair. He felt as if he was being watched by the eyes of his father looking out of the portrait, judging him already before he even grabbed the first piece of paper or began his work. He briefly wondered if he would ever be good enough for his father, even in death. As a child, he had felt as if he would never be able to meet his expectations and now as an adult there was no way he would ever be able to prove himself to his father anymore.

All was neatly arranged (by Malik surely), the stacks of paper were lying side by side on the table top, all reaching the same height and the pencils he would need were stuck in a neat golden pencil holder. "What is all this?" Altaїr finally asked before he grabbed the first folder and opened it. It was a file like it was used to apply at a company, but the texture alone was telling the wealth of the people sending this _application_ to him. The stationary was thick and rich and he was pretty sure that he knew the insignia of the family it belonged to, which was engraved in the header of the stationary. Leisurely he skipped through the file without really reading it, before he stopped as soon as he noticed the photo attached to one of the pages.

"Your majesty" Malik began in that very tone as if Altaїr should already know what that was all about, but when their eyes met and when Malik realized that Altaїr had no clue, he continued, clearing his throat. "Surely you noticed before that the noble families are hoping for a benefit when they are praising their noble daughters to you."

"Of course." Altaїr replied and lowered his gaze again on the photo of the young woman he had in front of him. She surely was beautiful, though it was a shame he could only see so little of her face due to her very modest, very traditional _choice_ of clothing. Truth was, he still did not understand and at least Malik could sense that.

"That is why _we_ , your majesty, are looking at the candidates now. After all, you should announce your engagement with one of them respectable dames at the latest next Ramadan." Which was in six months.

Altaїr felt like a stone was dropped into his stomach. He should marry? So soon? Of course, he was to marry a girl and father an heir to his throne, but … _now_? He was eighteen! He was only eighteen for not even a whole day now and already needed to talk and think about marriage! He did not want to marry! He did not even want to _discuss_ marrying anyone! It was already a miracle if he managed to put on matching socks every morning, how was he supposed to choose a bride and marry – not to mention him becoming a father! "I … I cannot … I don’t want to marry." He then gasped and grabbed his plastron again to loosen it, though it was already loosened. Still, he felt like the bloody thing was getting tighter around his neck with every second, digging into the thin skin of his neck.

"You don’t need to marry tomorrow, your majesty." Malik stepped closer and finally planted his hands on the tabletop. "This is but a rough selection." He then stated and rounded the table, only to grab the chair Altair was sitting on and shoved it into place. "Hair color, nationality, eye color, etcetera. Just select them after what you prefer. This is not about love, your majesty; try to keep that in mind. That’s the very same way your grandfather selected your grandmother long before his coronation. This is about an alliance for your kingdom and if you are as lucky as your grandfather was, love is going to be the result of this alliance. But whatever you choose, your majesty, whatever you say, you need to be completely honest about it, for nothing you'll say, will leave this room." Then he stepped to the side again. "Your grandmother managed to get you a reprieve for your wedding day until you will turn twenty-five and you will be able to change your engagement during those years if something would occur that would change your view on the candidate."

That was what Malik said, but the reality was, that Altaїr was not even really listening any more at this point. He could already feel the chains and threads he was hanging from being pulled and twisted to let him dance like a puppet. He thought about his cousin Federico, who had been married last year only because he managed to get some stupid drunken girl pregnant by accident. He had loved his time with the Auditores, but he had hated it that his cousin Ezio had always thrown girls into his lap when he was still so very young. It had been much more relaxed with Connor and Desmond and a part of him was sure, that they had been well aware of the inner turmoil inside their young cousin, but at least had the decency not to confront him about it.

"It's still too early." And it would always be too early. He would never be ready to marry. And what was the point of marrying anyway? Was he to marry some stranger only to father an heir and secure his bloodline, only so the next generations could live in the very same fear as he and probably his father too did? Was this really the purpose of all this? Were they just _surviving_? Were they just trying to outlive their enemies? Wouldn’t it be more wise to achieve an alliance with their enemies to end this once and for all or would this make anything all the more worse? Should he try to stop this nonsense war anyway or should he just live with it? "Do you plan on marrying soon? Or … no. let me guess: You are already married, aren’t you?"

With that, he managed to get at least a smirk from Malik, though this could not at all lighten his own mind at the moment. "No, I am not and I don’t feel the need to marry anytime soon." Malik finally replied. "It would stand in the way of my job as your guardian and I would never be able to provide for a woman as she would deserve, while not neglecting my duties as the royal protector. It would be not fair letting any woman go through that. But of course, your majesty, if this was your wish I would need to acquiesce."

"I would never force anyone to marry against their will or believes." It was just a little side blow, though it was not really aimed at Malik, for Malik was not the guilty part in all that. Malik had not made those ridiculous rules he now needed to live by.

It was much later that day when Altaїr finally arrived back at his chambers. The night was already black, the stars hung low, and for one moment, when he sat down heavily on the comfortable sofa, he just wanted to grab his phone and call anyone. It did not really matter whom. It did not even matter if he would call his uncle Haytham for god's sake! Anyone would suffice! Anyone who was not _here_.

Silently he grabbed one of the big sofa cushions and pulled it against his chest to rest his chin on it. Never in his life had he felt more alone than right now. Not even when he had been sent away, for the good Mr. Al-Sayf had been with him the whole flight to Italy to bring them to his family. But now … Well, he did have his granny … And he did have _his_ Mr. Al-Sayf. Still he felt lonely, lost, and pathetic. Rummaging through those files of all those girls today had made him anxious.

He could not stand them being treated like goods by their families, like they were good for nothing except for being married off like this to a noble man, no matter if that was what _they_ wanted. He was angry with those families – with those fathers – and yet, he was only angry because those women were in the very same position as he. They simply got no choice. But he could at least choose, while they could only hope that they _were_ chosen by a noble, rich man who maybe would even treat them right.

There was a soft knock on the door and then Malik opened it without even looking at the prince for confirmation. Of course, Malik was watching him like the overprotective owl he was and Altair had a hard time ignoring his presence, but at least for those few seconds he did manage to. He felt so alone and yet he would never be alone again. Every little step of his would be watched from now on, every little move he made would be judged. He did not even look to the door, only listened to the small exchange of words between Malik and _someone_ until the door was closed again.

Then the smell of something sweet (very sweet) hit his nose and sent his whole body in a state of alert. The smell of something sweet had this effect on his body since he lived with the Auditores and needed to fight for his sweets against two broad guys and one sneaky girl. His eyes immediately focused on the small plate in Malik's Hand with one simple cupcake on it. Blue frosting and a single birthday candle.

●●●●●●●●●●

When Malik Al-Sayf woke up this night, the air was freezing cold and his windows already frosted in the moonlight shining through them. Tomorrow it would snow surely. Of course, he was trained to be always on alert for his protégé's safety, so a night of restful sleep was something he did not quite know since he started his training a few years ago. His brother on the other hand was a different pair of shoes. The kingdom would be doomed if Kadar would take his place one day. His brother could not even be awakened by a marching band walking through his room, let alone by some assassins killing their monarch and the entire inhabitants of the castle while screaming bloody murder the whole time. One day his brother would be killed in his sleep surely.

First, Malik did not know what it was sending his body into alert, only that it did and that the fact that this was happening meant that something was off. He learnt to trust his instincts above all else after all. First, he thought he might have heard something and was about to jump out of bed and grab his gun to run and shoot whoever it was trying to harm the prince, but then … Feet.

There were feet inside his bed, which did not belong to him. Well, that was if he did not grow a second pair of feet overnight of course. Then again, his feet never were this fucking cold! Malik sat up immediately in shock and confusion, looking around the dark room and suddenly was not even able to locate the light switch of his reading lamp. "What the-" He began, but a voice was shutting him up immediately.

"Be quiet, I want to sleep." Altaїr's voice murmured low and hoarse, before the brat started pulling on Malik's covers to steal them from him.

"Altaїr? What are you doing in my bed?" He hissed, completely forgetting all his manners and a part of him wanted to drag the boy by the ankle back into his own bed, his brain agitated by the pure fact that he had been awoken like this.

"Your majesty." Altaїr corrected him dryly and a bit smug, before Malik finally found the light switch and could see what was happening in his bed.

Altaїr way lying on his side near the edge, facing the window and away from Malik (his bed was not all too big to be honest and not made for two people to sleep in it at all!), clutching Malik's pillow and his covers and a moment later Malik winced again when those ice-cold feet met his naked legs again. "For fucks sake!" He groaned and fell back onto the mattress. "What are you doing here your majesty? Is there something wrong with your room?" He briefly remembered an encounter with a spider back when they were little.

"No." Altaїr yawned not even looking at him, his face half hidden by the blanket, completely ignoring that now Malik needed to shiver in cold.

"Did you … did you have a bad dream? Can I get you something?" At least it was his job to try and figure out what was wrong, so he could make it better, if that was possible at all. He should probably get up and leave his bed or even the room, but he could not bring himself to it.

"No." Malik was at his wits ends. He would have not been if it were not for those circumstances. "I am the future king, right?"

"Right." Malik sighed, watching the back of Altaїr's head. He did not even know why, but seeing the back of Altaїr's head always made him wanting to turn him around to face him. He learned to dissolve this urge though.

"So everything in this castle belongs to me, right?" The prince pressed on and Malik was slowly getting what he was all about.

"Right." He stated.

"So I can sleep wherever I want, right?" This time he did not wait for an answer. "And I choose to sleep here. You can stay though…"

"God save our gracious prince." Malik sighed but got up anyway. He would not let himself get thrown out of his bed or his little chamber, but at least he wanted to get rid of those cold feet occupying his bed and since he could not just cut them off, he needed to take a different approach. Altaїr's confused eyes were following Malik to his small dresser, but all Malik was doing was to grab a pair of thick black socks, before her flung up the blanket at the end of his bed. Altaїr was scrambling to get his legs and feet under the warm blankets again, but Malik grabbed his feet and held them firmly, until he managed to get Altaїr's feet into his socks. They were too big of course, but that did not really matter. "I can't stand your cold feet in my bed, your majesty." He only snarled before he got back into his bed again. He decided that he would not cower or shy away from this, oh no. Altaїr was but a toddler and he needed someone (a parent, a big brother) to get him back in line again.

He remembered his father once telling him that it was not wise to befriend he young prince as they did, when his father first got wind of the blossoming friendship between him and Altaїr. He said, that Malik was to watch over him one day and that their friendship could cloud his vision. Back then he was not able to understand, he himself only nine years old and Altaїr but a child like everyone else. Now he did understand, at least a little bit more than before. Maybe his father had been right all along. It was already hard to treat Altaїr like the protégé that he was and not like the best friend he lost. A part of him was wondering if they would be able to get back to the friendship they once had and another part of him wondered if this would be wise to even try to achieve. Then again his father and the king, Altaїr's father, had been best friends since their childhood too and this had never clouded his own father's view of the situation. He had been crushed though, when King Umar had died without him being able to prevent this.

To Malik it had been quite the miracle that his father survived the car crash while the king died later in hospital. He knew now that his father never forgave himself for letting his best friend die like this and maybe that was why he cared so deeply for Altaїr afterwards. His father hardly even left Altaїr's side in the week that had followed the car crash and that led up to the failed assassination of the young prince. He secured Altaїr's save journey to Italy, but after he came back home to his wife and children, Malik only experienced his father as a broken and sad man. It took him a while to understand this and it took his father a while to get back at least a little bit to his former self.

And then he died.

Still, with all that in mind, Malik found himself switching off the light again and pulling his blankets back to him again, pulling the clingy monarch with them, until he was so close they almost cuddled. It was weird, but still not as weird as he might have thought if someone would have warned him about this possibility. "You are lonely over there, right?"

Altaїr kept his silence, but Malik was suddenly wide-awake. "No…" Altaїr mumbled, clearly a blatant lie. "I think it spooks in my bedroom."

Malik could not help but laugh. "Of course it does. It spooks in the entire castle, so grow yourself some balls. Those are just your ancestors watching over you, your majesty." That was at least what his father always liked to tell Malik and Kadar. Their ancestors were watching over them inside this castle and that was nothing to be afraid of.

Altaїr kicked him for he was not taken seriously, though he was. Malik of all people knew exactly what he was speaking of. He could feel the presence of his late father around every corner, his watchful eyes upon him, hopefully proud for his oldest son. Malik and his father Faheem always had a good relationship. They had been friends and allies and Malik had been able to go to his father with absolutely everything that was on his mind and could now only hope that he would be able to fill his father's footsteps.

Well, no, not with everything he could have come to his father. There was this one thing Malik never found the strength to tell him about and yet he was sure that his father had known all along. Maybe that was the reason why he always told him to not get too attached to the prince. Well, now it was too late, wasn’t it?

"Why did you never write? Seven years and never even a tiny message." Malik finally asked. "Kadar had been waiting every day for a sign of life." _He_ had been waiting every day for a sign of life.

A moment passed again, but this time Malik did not think that Altaїr was asleep, instead, after a moment, Altaїr turned around to face him, but ultimately just rested his head on Malik's shoulder as if they were still children. If he were to ask him, Altaїr would simply claim that this was because of the blankets and that it would be easier and more comfortable this way. But yes, Malik remembered that the prince had always been quite clingy and snuggly.

"In the beginning I was so afraid because of all the new things. I didn’t know the language and I didn’t even know what was going on or what to make of all this. I needed time to figure it all out and then I started writing and then I didn’t. At some point, I was so afraid because I thought you sure were angry with me for taking so long and that my letters would be too late already. Then there was Ezio who distracted me and made me enjoy my new life and freedom. Then I started to feel afraid even thinking about you guys, because when I thought about you I thought about Masyaf and I was more than happy to forget this place and all the bad things that had happened here."

Malik only hummed in response and slowly dragged him closer, though he did not even know where this was coming from. He had not expected so much honesty of the boy and though he gave him credit for his honesty, he was hurt. It was stupid and he knew that, but still … it hurt. It was weird what darkness made out of men. There was nothing in the world, not even alcohol, managing to get those truths out of a man's mouth but darkness.

"You will be a good king." Malik murmured into the darkness. Weirdly it did not feel strange lying in his bed with the king to be snuggled against his own body. Altaїr was slim, but not ripped. By now, they were the same height, but it was obvious, that they were a whole lot different when it came to pure body strength. Altaїr was _delicate_ , as the nobles tended to be, while he was _rough_ around the edges, like the common people tended to be.

While he was staring into the darkness, he thought about the way Altaїr had been brought up during the last seven years and even before. He thought about that energetic boy Altaїr once had been when they had been but children, running around the vast gardens of the castle, sneaking into rooms they were not allowed to sneak in to, stealing sweets from the storage and getting horribly scolded for their crimes. Altaїr still was this energetic boy, that Malik used to know, his party photos made that pretty clear, but now it seemed that this energy was getting more and more negative. He watched all this unfolding from afar, read all the reports the queen mother got about her grandson and he had grown angrier and angrier with every one of those reports or photos. To him it was quite obvious, that Altaїr's constant search for bringing chaos was not directed against the world in itself or even against this kingdom. It was directed against himself. Well, he was but a teenager and this self-destructive behavior probably pretty normal and plausible, right? Never had it been discussed with Altaїr when he got attacked again, never had there been anyone really talking to the young prince and Altaїr himself had not liked to talk about it, no matter how Malik tried to persuade him into talking. It had been a fruitless task.

Maybe the tattoos on his body, maybe the handful of piercings he got, were just the way he tried to cope with all the shit that went down in his life already. On the other hand, maybe he just tried to get as much out of his youth as possible like this. "You can put the piercings back on after your coronation, at least those that are normally hidden underneath your clothes." Malik then murmured, maybe a bit too forgiving, maybe a bit too soft, but now, right in that moment, Altaїr was not the prince, but only Altaїr, only his friend. Back, when they had been kids, they had often fallen asleep together somewhere in the castle. They used to _camp_ inside Altaїr's bedchambers or the big salon and sometimes even at Malik's own place. Back then, they had been only normal kids and Malik enjoyed the feeling of being just a normal kid again with his best friend by his side. Altaїr always had this habit of resting his head on someone's shoulder, either Malik or his granny or of Malik's father. He had always been a child that needed someone to lean on and now he did probably more than ever need this.

 _Don’t get too attached, Malik_ , he told himself quietly. When the sun would rise again, he would be the royal protector again and Altaїr would be his protégé again. They needed this professional distance and Malik had no clue why he was even allowing this right here to happen. "I am still angry though." He then continued and could not help put pinch Altaїr's left ear, after he snaked his arm around the young monarch and pulled at the soft flesh. It was not wise what he was doing, not when women meant so little distraction to Malik.

"Sorry." Altaїr winced and tried to free his ear from the hard pinch of Malik's strong fingers. With one swift yank, he would be able to break the elegant, thin neck of the prince. "I really didn’t mean to be such a jerk."

"Yes you did." Malik sighed. "You were running around naked, letting yourself get photographed in that fashion by the paparazzi following you around and banged dozens and dozens of stupid girls and all that only because your cousin, the _Italian stallion_ , told you to."

"That’s not entirely true." Altaїr then admitted quietly. Oh, he was far from admitting any guilt at all. He was far from seeing his flaws, Malik could sense that. Altaїr had always been like this. He had always been quite arrogant, even after Malik pushed him face first into a puddle of mud. Then again, he was the prince, so this was to be expected, right? "I didn’t sleep with _thaaaat_ many girls."

He even believed the prince. Since the moment they had entered the late king's office and Altaїr laid eyes on all the applications from women to possibly marry, Malik knew that there was something more, bothering Altaїr. "Why are you so opposed of getting married?" Malik asked, finally letting go of Altaїr's ear, after he thought the brat had learned his lesson. Still, he did not understand why his self-command was lacking so greatly right now. Why was he not able to throw him out of his bed or at least move to his comfortable armchair standing near the window? He should not lie here with the prince in his arms! What if someone would catch them like this? "It's not just because you don’t like these traditions, right?"

"I hate that they are being forced by their families without having a say in that matter. Moreover, I do not want anyone to marry me only because I will be king in a few days. If and when I decide to marry, I don’t want just an alliance. An alliance is not enough." For the spoiled brat that he was, it was never enough, Malik knew that pretty much. Altaїr always had been insatiable.

"But if you would wait for love, then you will maybe never get the chance of fathering an heir fast enough. You need to secure your bloodline before it's too late." – Before the Sofians would manage to get him killed like they did with his father Umar and probably even with his grandfather. "I do my very best to protect you from harm, of course, but as far as I know you, I would assume that you yourself are the most dangerous person for your wellbeing." Because the prince had always been a clumsy one.

"Do you regret choosing this job?" Altaїr finally murmured shifting a bit under the blankets to get more comfortable. Within his mind, Malik fought a relentless battle: truth against duty. He did understand Altaїr's way of behaving the last seven years, if only because he had been pushed and shaped into the person he was now from an early age on too, just like his brother. "Or did you just do what you were told because of your father and the traditions?"

"It was never my choice to begin with." Malik finally answered. The truth overwhelmed the duty in one glorious duel, though he blamed the darkness surrounding them. "My brother and I were never given the choice to be anything else but the royal protectors and same goes for my father, but for now, I don’t regret following the path that had been presaged for me or that I never rebelled against it, like you did. I like protecting people and I am good at this. If I had had the choice, maybe I would not have chosen this path. So, the both of us are pretty much in the same situation, I would assume. We both were never granted the decision what to make of our lives, therefore we can only make the best out of it."

"I am still angry that you made me undress in that shed. It was fucking cold in there." Altaїr huffed, maybe to bridge the moment of truth with some humor. Altaїr always had a problem with being serious for all too long, though he was a very serious guy if one was to really know him and that all his sarcasm and dry humor were really but a façade, he used to protect himself with.

"I noticed that. You visibly shrunk in size in that shed." Malik grinned, though Altaїr probably could not see, but the prince only snickered.

"I knew you were staring at my crown jewels." Well, Malik guessed, there really was nothing he had never seen, right? When they had been kids, they had often even bathed together after playing in the mud all day long.

"So what? You were staring at my ass today. I think we're even." Malik backfired and enjoyed the moment of silence from the prince. He could only feel the heat radiating from his face. Of course, he _did_ notice Altaїr staring at his ass every now and again since this day started and he really thought Altaїr had not even been aware of his own staring. Cute. Malik never liked _cute_ guys, though. Moreover, he did not like slender guys like Altaїr. However, he did like Altaїr.

"Well, sorry, but it’s a really nice ass, so what can a man do but admire perfection?" Altaїr then murmured, clearly pouting hidden by the darkness around him and Malik could not help but laugh at this very blunt comment. There he was again, _his_ Altaїr.


	5. A Bird in a Cage

_It had been a rainy morning. A very rainy morning, with thunder and lightning and dark clouds loafing around uselessly and all this stuff and Altaїr Ibn-La'Ahad was now ready and eager to leave the stuffy inside of the castle. There were large puddles all over the castle's grounds, waiting for the young prince to jump into them. A few weeks ago, he begged Mr. Al-Sayf to get his father to buy him wellies and he did. Now, he was ready and equipped._

_Altaїr had waited good half an hour, until it was save for him to leave his rooms dressed in his new boots and his raincoat and now he was sneaking (quite squeakily with his new rubber boots) downstairs and through the backdoor into the vast gardens. Malik and Kadar were nowhere around. How boring. He briefly wondered if they were in school or if they needed to help their mother again with something. Well, he sometimes really was self-centered he guessed, otherwise he would have already known when the Al-Sayf brothers had school._

_Anyway, it seemed he was now on his own and needed to try to enjoy himself somewhat. When he managed to (squeakily) sneak out of the castle there were no nannies to hold him back and not a single maid to shoo the young prince inside again, so he would not be able to harm himself or get his clothes dirty again. He was free! Free like a bird!_

_So, Altaїr ran towards the first big puddle he saw and jumped in, so the water was to splash around everywhere and a joyous squeal was escaping his mouth. He almost put his hand to his mouth to muffle the sound, but then he did not. No, he was living the risky lifestyle right now! He wanted to enjoy life to the fullest, no matter the risk!_

_"You shouldn’t do this!" A small voice sounded from the balustrade of the upper level of the gardens. The gardens had two levels, the upper one on which he was now playing in the puddles and then the second that lead to the end of the cliffs. Altaїr had always loved running down there to overlook the sea from the big balustrade._

_He had not noticed the other kid before, which was now balancing on the balustrade of the upper level where one could stand and look down too. The kid was wearing a raincoat too, wide jeans and the hood of its blue raincoat pulled over its head. It was hard to tell how old the kid really was, but surely not so much older than Altaїr – though taller on first glance. Its wellies were covered in mud though._

_"What?" Altaїr exclaimed pouting, his arms crossed in front of his body. "I am the prince, I do what I want." Easy as that, right?_

_"Yes, but my father said you are not allowed to play outside, because you are such a baby!" The kid grinned and balanced a few steps further over the balustrade. Altaїr was thrilled to do the very same thing, but he did not, otherwise his father really would never let him out of the castle ever again and chain him to a chair or something like that, so he could not get tempted to do something stupid like this again. It was too dangerous … then again … no it was not! Nothing was too dangerous! He was Prince Altaїr, after all! What this kid could do he could do better!_

_Especially when this kid was calling him a baby…_

_"I'm not a baby!" Altaїr hissed and ran towards the balustrade to get up there. It was not as easy as he thought it would be, how he now needed to experience. In the midst of him climbing that thing, his bum was floating in the air like a target for everyone with arrows to aim at him. He did not even know who that kid was, for there were not so many kids around in the castle._

_"Yes you are!" The kid laughed and ran a bit faster on the balustrade to show its skills to Altaїr – or to provoke him, which worked pretty well, for as Altaїr managed to get up he started following the unknown person as fast as he was able to. It could be a ghost of course or a very little assassin, but he did not really think about this. Though he always thought that they had ghosts living within the castle, so why not a ghost kid?_

_"No I'm not!" He exclaimed, instead of trying a different approach. "You are a baby!"_

_"Oh, am I now? I bet you cannot outrun me!" The kid grinned, turning towards him with skilled ease. There was a tooth missing in that very toothy grin, one of the incisors and the other one was just as long as that of a rabbit._

_"Of course I can outrun you,_ buck tooth _!" Yes well, he probably needed to work on his means to insult other kids, but he did make a whole lot of progress with Malik and Kadar by his side during the past year! The kid just cocked an eyebrow and jumped off the balustrade to get back to the wet grass. It made a wet squishy sound._

_"Really? Show me then! From here to the bench down there!" The kid yelled and already started running, while Altaїr was still contemplating his protest because he was not allowed to run down the stairs to the second level of the garden where said bench was standing. Normally he only walked down the stairs when one of his nannies would hold his hand. Well, if he wanted to proof his ability to that bragger, he needed not to think of what he was not allowed to do, as it seemed._

_So, (carefully) Altaїr jumped down onto the wet grass and started running like mad (which looked not so very princely for the way he was swaying his arms) and only lowered his speed a bit when he arrived at the stairs. He was still going too fast when he was going down (well, faster than he normally was allowed), but still cautious of the wet stone he set his foot on. The other kid was already almost at the bench while he was still running down the stairs but he managed to catch up to the other kid anyway. That was until said kid tackled him. Well, it did not exactly tackle him, but nudged him hard in the shoulder so Altaїr stumbled and landed face first into a puddle of mud._

_It was the second time in his life that something like that happened._

_He started wailing before he could even contemplate what had been happening to him. Now, there he was, his new raincoat and new wellies muddy just like his whole face, crying like a little kid. Well, he was a little kid. He was only six._

_"Maria! What are you doing down there?" Oh, the most familiar voice of Malik came to his rescue. Of course, not the voice came to his recue, but the boy belonging to it. Maria? A girl had just pushed him into a puddle of mud. Oh, he wanted to drown in that puddle immediately! Instead, he started crying louder. Well, that rarely ever helped, but it was worth a try._

●●●●●●●●●●

He was never one to really like his body. He was never one to really like seeing himself naked in the mirror or on photographs. There were more than enough other people that could do something stupid like adore the shape of his body, for whatever reason there might be. Yet, Altaїr found himself staring at himself in the mirror. He tried not to listen all too much to the water splashing while running and filling the large tub he now owned. The tub in itself was one beautiful piece of marble stonework. It was so large two people would easily fit inside without getting in each other's space too much. The tub itself was engulfed in a heavy marble pedestal, covered in the most beautiful stone carving ornaments Altaїr had ever seen, fully equipped with the insignia of his family of course. There was hardly any room in this castle, where the majestic eagle was not watching over the inhabitants.

Of course, the faucets were made of gold and gold threats were woven into the small rag, which was lying on the white marble floor of his bathroom. The tub was located directly in front of one beautiful shaped window with thin silken curtains draped elegantly over the sides. Even if this room would not be located at such a weird spot in the layout of the castle, Altaїr would fear being watched while bathing - then again, his naked body was hardly something his subjects had never seen up until now, probably. Only this morning one of his advisors presented to him a magazine, that was publicized within their very own kingdom (some stupid little gossip magazine, of which Altaїr never knew it existed!), with him all over the cover and of course inside the magazine. It did not surprise him really that they would bring out a special edition of this magazine in his honor, his advisors were not so very amused though, not after opening the magazine and having their king-to-be naked over a double page.

Well, he had no clue how those paparazzi even managed to get this photo, but then again … Well … It had been a silly thing really … Just some picture he send to some chick, only a pillow covering his lap. _"Wow the pillow really was ugly, I almost forgot."_ He had stated, while being confronted by those very annoyed advisors of his, though he had felt guilty because of those pictures, behind his façade. _"Sue whoever printed this. I was sixteen when the picture was taken as evident by the lack of tattoos on my skin."_

It was easy for him playing it cool in front of people who did not really know him, but he was not as cool around Malik or his grandmother. Even Desmond sent him a text because of various nude photos being leaked of Altaїr (again) in the internet. He tried not to care, but it was not that easy, not on a day like this.

Altaїr still stared at his own reflection, while the glass was slowly getting fogged by the steam coming from the hot water inside the tub. It was warm in here. He could not stand coldness. Slowly his eyes wandered from his face (the only thing he really liked about himself) over his neck and the small scar where the knife once cut him, then deeper down over his chest. He did not put the piercings back in, though Malik cleaned them and put them into his bathroom at one point. Maybe tomorrow. He missed the metallic taste on his tongue a little bit. A moment longer than he liked to admit he stared at the large scar on his right hip, clearly visible on the bone. That was the spot where his first tattoo was. He could not stand seeing the scar since he got it - his first encounter with someone who tried to murder him. With sixteen, he decided he would drag his cousin Ezio with him to give the permission to the tattoo artist. Maybe it was just a little bit ironic that he had decided on tattooing the motto of his family right over the scar. _Nothing is true, everything is permitted_ in Arabic. However, this scar alone told him that everything was indeed permitted - even stabbing a seven-year-old child, as it seemed.

Altaїr came to the conclusion that he was still quite thin, even after one entire week of all the long missed Arabic dishes that should make him strong, as his granny told him. His cousins, all three of them (well _plus Federico_ ), were quite muscular and fit (though of course Connor was surely fathered by a bear and not at all by Haytham Kenway), while he was just the thin little prince. No wonder that he was so chronically unfit and thin though, after all, he had never been allowed to do sports or doing some exercise with his cousins. He was just about to turn in front of the mirror so he could look at himself from the side, when he heard someone clearing their throat.

"Are you done admiring yourself, your majesty? It's time to get into the bathtub."

He did not even had the decency to feel embarrassed or turn a bright red, instead he only snorted and slowly walked to the bathtub to get into the hot water. Malik though kept standing where he was, his arms crossed behind his back, looking straight ahead. It had been one weird night when Altaїr got into Malik's bed for he could not stand the feeling of being in his father's bed any longer and still their conversation was burning inside his mind.

"Is there something else?" Altaїr sighed, after he got comfortable in the tub. "Or do you just want to stare at my crown jewels again?" Malik smirked, but since that night, his bodyguard seemed to have tried to distance himself at least a little bit from his prince again. Altaїr did not like it.

"Yes." Malik answered calmly. "I just got the answer of your friend Mr. da Vinci. He gladly accepted your inquiry of having him painting your portrait after your coronation."

Yes, tomorrow he would be King Altaїr Ibn-La'Ahad, the first of his name. Tomorrow he would be king. With that thought in mind, Altaїr would have liked to sink down on the bottom of the tub and just drown. He felt sick, he felt anxious.

"Cool." He simply answered quietly, leaning his head back against the rim of the bathtub and closing his eyes. He felt sick, like really, really sick and all he wanted to do was to go back to Desmond or maybe even better to Connor, so someone could coo over him and sooth his mind or something like this. At least Leonardo would come to see him. He had met the painter when he had been living in Italy as one of the first persons to meet there, as he was one of the closest friends the family possessed. He was just Ezio's age but the most brilliant man Altaїr had ever met in his entire life – and he was oh so charming.

Of course, his whole family was invited to the coronation tomorrow, but the Kenways would not be able to attend and the Miles too. As for the Auditore, he had no clue. He knew Ezio would try everything in his control to come and see his _little cricket_ , a nickname Altaїr had earned for his singing under the shower when he had been little. Still Malik did not leave and when he pried open one eye, he found his former best friend staring at him once again. Was he now imagining things or was Malik blushing when Altaїr caught him? Well, at least Malik's escape out of the bathroom after this was priceless and oh so very fast. Altaїr on the other hand only sunk deeper into the water. He was never really fond of being in the water at all, but now it was like a cocoon of warmth for him and helped him to focus.

Hopefully, the next day would come to an end quickly. However, what was he supposed to do after he was king? He needed to make decisions for other people of course, but he did not want to do that! There was so much to do! So many things to look after!

Tomorrow night, when the _party_ would be, he would be expected to dance with all those women he never met before. By the beginning of the week, his secretaries sent about hundred invitations only to women from the applications on his desk, but there were at least nine hundred other people to attend the festivities he never met and never wanted to meet. He could only hope that maybe there would be at least one woman he would see fit to at least like a bit, for he would love to have his granny at his wedding. Well, that was some stupid thing to hope for, he guessed. He would be all alone on his wedding day and never in his life would he find the chance of … Well. Better not to think of it.

After his bath, he spent at least three hours lying on his bed and staring at the ceiling. He remembered that he always really liked that ceiling and the beautiful stuccowork on it. The motives were marvelous and as a child, he always wondered how long plasterers had worked on those lying on their backs on a scaffold perhaps.

Those thoughts did not help him at all, as it turned out, when he threw himself on his side and was now facing the window. It was snowing outside again and the sight managed to soothe him at least a little bit. Yet he finally had enough and jumped out of his bed to leave the bedroom and to roam around his lounge. He tried to be silent for he knew Malik would otherwise jump out of bed and wrestle him back into his own. Though Altaїr would not mind sleeping another night in Malik's bed. Of course, it had been a tight fit, but it had felt nice and Altaїr missed having another body next to his - a stronger body than his own. Well, there were those thoughts again! Why could his stupid brain not just shut up already?

He needed a distraction! He needed … He needed Alcohol! Or something else! He only shot a short glance to Malik's door before he silently left his chambers. He did not want to wake Malik and he did not need his bodyguard around all day, after all, he should be safe in his own _home_ right? He was still wearing only his Pajamas (those ridiculous pajamas with the royal insignia on it) and his very fluffy, very blue socks. Well, then again, he was almost king and thus he was allowed to run around naked inside the castle if that was what he wanted to do!

It was quite the miracle to him how he managed to sneak out of his room without alerting his shadow. The castle was completely quiet and full of ghosts, lurking behind every corner. Suddenly he felt as if he placed himself on a silver platter or if his dead father could float around the next corner every second now. Already he felt the hairs on his body stand up, while he slowly walked on down the hallway. The kitchen was his target for it was probably the most likely place to find alcohol, though he had not even the slightest clue if he would find alcohol there. Maybe he should start looking for the wine cellar instead, but for that, he would need to know if they had a wine cellar for that matter.

Maybe he would be able to find a bottle of Arak somewhere. He did not meet anyone on his little sneaking tour through the castle. No guards, no servants. Nobody, only the darkness and the sound of a cold wind whistling through the cracks in the walls. A part of him thought that this was a little bit careless, but for the most part, he was glad that he would not need to explain himself to anyone - not that he would be obligated to do that anyway, for he was (almost) the king.

The kitchen too was empty, when Altaїr managed to reach it, though a small lamp over the stove was still on and a heavenly scent of freshly cooked stew was up in the air. Perhaps he only just missed the cook. However he made a beeline for the fridge immediately, after the door fell shut behind him, hoping to find anything useable to forget what was going to happen to him.

The fridge was fully stuffed with all kinds of different things, but as soon as Altaїr shoved his head into the fridge to really start looking for anything, the door behind him opened and Altaїr was frozen solid immediately.

"Your majesty." The voice of a woman sounded from the kitchen door, but Altaїr did not react, for he knew that voice all too well. "I believe you have mistaken the kitchen with your bedroom."

Mrs. Al-Sayf's jet black hair had already a few grey strands in it, Altaїr could see that even in the dim light within the kitchen and her wrinkles or the worry lines on her forehead had deepened over the years. However, her blue eyes were still sharp as a freshly sharpened blade, when she put her hands in her hips as she always used to do when he had been but a kid. Slowly he closed the door in his back as if he was putting down a loaded gun because Mrs. Al-Sayf was pointing a gun at him. She had always had this effect on him - and on his father, the king, too.

"My apologies." Altaїr mumbled and slowly shuffled away from the fridge, but the mother of his shadow only sighed and stepped towards the fridge herself to grab a bottle of milk, then she pointed towards the small table standing in one of the corners were she and her employees normally sat to eat or have coffee. She was still wearing her uniform and she did not look tired at all. Well, Malik clearly inherited this trait from her. Altaїr just followed her order and sat down at the table while keeping his eyes on her, while she was rummaging around the kitchen, grabbing two mugs and heating the milk she poured into them in the microwave. When she came back to him, it smelled incredible.

"Milk with honey, your majesty." She said and sat down with him, giving one of the steaming hot mugs to him. "I assume you cannot find sleep because you are nervous?" Her sharp eyes were resting on his face and Altaїr really wanted to come up with a lie or to just shut her up, for his stomach was rebelling quite heavily already. The next day would not go down without him throwing up surely.

"Yes…" He found himself saying instead. Why should he lie to Mrs. Al-Sayf anyway? She knew him since the day he was born after all. "I ... I … Do you know the great artist Mr. Leonardo da Vinci? He … He will come after my coronation to paint my portrait."

Mrs. Al-Sayf smiled gently, but was quick to morph her smile again into her usual calm demeanor - perhaps so he would not feel all too encouraged to talk rubbish. "I have heard of him, yes, your majesty, and after all I've heard it is a great honor to be painted by him. Though of course, there are rumors circling around."

"Rumors?" Altaїr asked, carefully blowing onto his milk so it would get cold enough to drink, while Mrs. Al-Sayf was already drinking. Well, she was obviously manlier than he was.

"Yes, rumors." She stated not so very helpful. "People say that he is not so very fond of women."

"Oh, quite the contrary, he is very fond of women, but he is not sexually interested in them, that is right." Altaїr chuckled, but immediately regretted this stupid decision, when he noticed how her expression visibly shifted and rather tended to gulp down a few sips of the hot milk. He tended to forget how this country and its people stood towards that issue.

"Oh my." She only said with a small huff and then smirked. "What a shame, such a good looking young man." She then snickered, before her face turned serious again. "But, your majesty, if you allow me to express my worries, I believe it could not benefit you if he is to paint your portrait for his reputation and those rumors. The people of this kingdom are still not sure what to make of you after all those negativities we read during the past seven years. You should maybe distance yourself from friends like him."

"I will never distance myself from the only friends I have in this world. Leonardo is a great ally of mine and he does not deserve to be let down only because something so inane like this. No one deserves this." He muffled and took another sip, lowering his gaze on the tabletop. A king never lowered his gaze in front of anyone and yet he could not help but do exactly that. "What I'm trying to say is … I believe this kingdom and my subjects deserve a leader who does not let friends and allies of his down like this for something as trivial as sexuality. They deserve a leader who has an open mind for the world and its evolution and I can only hope to become that kind of leader."

"Well spoken." Malik's deep voice nearly made him fall of the chair, as it sounded from the kitchen door. He was wearing his sleeping pants, black (and very soft, as Altaїr briefly recalled) and a grey shirt. Nothing special. His hair was ruffled and his face wrinkly. He looked all around like a man who just had been startled from his sleep and rushed to find a trace of what he had lost. He was a good track dog as it seemed or he was just a real fast runner. "Mother, you are already up." He then noticed half-heartedly and suddenly he was again the boy who had been terribly embarrassed to see his best friend talking to his mother.

"I am still up, Malik." His mother answered with a small smile. "And you boys should be sleeping right now." With that, she stood up again and Altaїr grabbed his cup harder.

●●●●●●●●●●

His throat burned, while his whole body shook and convulsed violently. He was heaving like a drunk; while he was hanging over the porcelain throne, he called his own. If he were in fact drunk, he would at least have a very good reason to throw up like this and probably not regret a thing for he would have enjoyed himself at least. Not even the feeling of the cold tiles under his knees helped him to soothe his body, while said body was desperate to get rid of his breakfast again. A large hand was suddenly resting on the small of his back, rubbing soothing circles over his tense and cold skin.

"Your majesty, it's about time to get dressed, your valets are here to help you with that." Malik's voice was soft and deep and told the stories of all the things Altaїr was denied from now on. How was anyone expecting him to be working alongside this man without scratching out his eyes or stab his ears? He would never be able to concentrate as soon as he would hear his voice or see him around! Better, he would swap Malik with his brother as soon as Kadar would be finished with his training he assumed. But then again … what if Kadar was a hottie too? It surely ran in the family! So it seemed that he was doomed, right?

Then again seeing someone throw up like this was not really increasing their sexiness, so he probably would have never a chance on wooing this man anyway, right? Not that he was planning on it…

Altaїr was still leaning over the toilet when Malik stood up again and seemingly left the room. He still needed a moment to calm himself again and to get back to his feet, but when he finally managed to, his stomach was revolting once more almost instantly. He managed to keep it down though (there was nothing he could share with this greedy toilet now anyway left in his stomach) and slowly walked out of the bathroom, trying to look graceful like the king he was going to be, what not really worked all too much. Malik was not inside the room while his valets helped him into his clothing for the coronation and he was not so sure if he was glad about this or not. Of course, it was quite ridiculous to always have his bodyguard around in his own home. There was no real danger and no real threats to him inside this castle, but still, he liked Malik's presence. It was comforting and calming.

When his valets left him alone, he felt as if he was about to attend a wedding or a costume party. Those clothes were nothing new to him and from now on, he would wear those clothes on a daily basis. The wide harems pants he could get used to, but the sherwani … Well, he never liked this. This one was pretty though. Today he was wearing white with exception for the golden details all over his sherwani and his flats. Even the handkerchief he was wearing in the little pocket of his sherwani on his chest was of golden silk and a large eagle had been embroidered all over his back. He really looked like royalty in this - more than he did in his hoodies and ripped jeans, still he felt weird. He felt like another person, like his father or grandfather, as if he was slowly leaving Altaїr behind.

"You look good." Malik said and Altaїr had not even heard him coming back. How long had he remained frozen in place in front of his large mirror, just looking at himself and searching for a hint of Altaїr buried in those clothes?

"I look like my father." Altaїr snorted and Malik stepped closer to him, brushing nonexistent dust off his shoulders if only just to touch him. It was weird and he probably just read too much into it. This was not healthy and good and he could still not resist it. Malik just chuckled on that and grabbed his shoulders to lift them as he did once before already.

"Shoulders up, back straight, chin up. Now is the big moment and if you need to throw up again give me a sign and I come running with a bucket, your granny already briefed me." With that, he finally managed to draw a small laughter from Altaїr, which probably was what he tried to achieve in the first place anyway.

Every step towards the door felt as if he was walking through quicksand and it really did not matter that Malik was with him. The security had been increased of course for this day and since the day started, there were dozens and dozens of people arriving at the small castle in big and fancy cars. Altaїr had spent almost one hour to just watch them drive onto the large courtyard only to be then parked by the chauffeurs and he remembered to having done the same exact thing when he had been but a child, with Malik standing by his side, his nose pressed against the window. Back then, all those fancy people had come for his father, now they were coming for him and he could not stand the thought. He just wanted to get the crown from his grandmother and have it be over with.

It was eerily quiet when Malik and he reached the large doors to the throne room. Only his granny waited for him at the large doors, a tender smile tugging on her lips, when she got up from her chair. Altaїr did not like the fact that she would need to walk before him down the alley. She was wearing a beautiful white and golden dress, a golden tiara made of delicate perfection, sitting on her white Hijab that she was wearing only for him, a few stray locks of her grey hair hanging loosely around her face. There were royal guards waiting for him already and the large, heavy blue, white and golden coat waiting for him in his granny's arm. Still, it was way too quiet! Where they at the wrong location perhaps? It should not be that quiet when they were hundreds of people waiting in this hall!

"Eaglet." His granny turned to him and he ducked down a bit so she could put the coat around his shoulders, before she gently kissed his cheek. "It's about time now."

When the fanfares were sounding from inside the hall and the doors were opened for his granny and him from the inside, he only saw how many people there really were and his heart nearly stopped beating. All those people were waiting for him, eager to see the crown prince, but his eyes were focused solely on his granny while she slowly began her procession down the alley above the dark blue carpet that was splintered with golden stars. Altaїr had always loved this carpet, but never understood why it was blue and not red. He still did not. Malik (invisible for everyone else) gently nudged him in the side, as it was time for him to get moving after he stood in the wide open doors for quite some time. Every step of his felt heavier than the first, while he was following his granny down the alley, the guards behind him, following him like ducklings their mother. It was only then, that he noticed the imam waiting for him at the throne.

The wise man of the mountain was still there to guide him as it seemed and seeing Al Mualim after seven years, even from afar made his feet suddenly feel lighter. Behind him and behind the throne were standing seven men, members of his parliament and the cleric. These were the people that would guide and advise him in all things between here and the heavens from now on. Maybe it was good that he had them, for he had no clue about Islam or how his people really lived with their religious believes. When Altaїr was halfway down the alley, Al Mualim stepped forward, the crown in his hand and turned to his left, before he raised the crown above hos head. "To the north I present to you, Altaїr, your undoubted King!" He exclaimed with a thundering voice that nearly startled Altaїr greatly, while the choir was singing and the musicians playing in the background (though none of that came to Altaїr's attention really) seemingly uncaring. Then he turned to his right and repeated his precious action exclaiming: "To the south I present to you, Altaїr, your undoubted king!"

Only then, he stepped back again, resting the crown on its pillow. Altaїr felt as if the coronation coat was dragging him down, weighing tons and tons, while his guests were watching his every step and every twitch of his face. Never in his life had it been so hard to keep his stoic expression. Three steps were leading up to his throne and he was glad that he practiced before moving with this giant coat, so, after his granny lead the way he had not that hard of a time climbing those steps, slowly turning so he could sit without making a grant fool of himself.

As soon as his bum hit the soft pillow that lay on the throne his heart made a jump. He did it so far. He managed to get down the alley without throwing up, without stumbling, without being embarrassing for his whole family and all of his ancestors and hypothetical descendants. Curious looks were resting on him, but he suddenly did not give a crap. Not even for the Sofians lurking again. Suddenly he felt more at ease and as if this really was the place, he was meant to be. He shortly glanced at his granny standing at his left out of the corner of his eye and she winked at him, then his eyes traveled above the people standing inside the throne room, before he caught a glimpse of Malik waiting at the right side of the room, keeping his eyes on him and the crowd. He could already tell that Malik was horribly tense.

Then the imam, Al Mualim, moved again and stepped to his side, grabbing the crown once more and suddenly Altaїr felt his tongue twist. Now came the ultimate test.

"Will you solemnly promise and swear to govern the people of Masyaf, according to their respective laws and customs?" It was then, that he felt the weight of the crown being placed on his head and thought that it was much heavier than he ever thought it would be. Maybe it was not so much that the crown really was as heavy. Maybe it was the symbolic weight he was now feeling. His granny always said that being crowned felt like being married to one's country and that was suddenly exactly how he felt. "Will you to your power cause law and justice, in mercy, to be executed in all your judgments?" Then the scepter was placed in his hand and he almost did not grab it. He could see Malik smirk out of the corner of his eye, while his granny stood still like a statue at his side.

"Will you to the utmost of your power maintain the laws of god and the true profession of the gospel? Will you to the utmost of your power maintain in the Kingdom of Masyaf the Islamic religion established by law?"

The orb was the last thing to be placed into his hands. His father had always liked to call that golden and somewhat glowing round thing the _Apple of Eden_ and Altaїr never understood why. "Will you maintain and preserve inviolable the settlement of the Islamic believes, and the doctrine, worship, discipline, and government thereof, as by law established in Masyaf?"

"I solemnly promise so to do. The things which I have here before promised, I will perform, and keep. So help me Allah." He could not believe that he managed to say his text without getting his tongue twisted or hit by lightning for this blasphemy of speaking god's name and promising on his name. Then Al Mualim, the imam with his one blind eye and his long beard turned to the crowd again and raised his arms.

"I crown thee Altaїr, first of his name, King of Masyaf."

●●●●●●●●●●

The music was loud enough to ensure the amusement of the guest and of the couples slowly hovering across the dancefloor, but not so loud, that those who did not dance needed to scream to talk to one another. Once again, Altaїr was quite thankful that he had been taught how to dance while living abroad. That was one of the major lessons he learned in the Auditore household under Maria Auditore's supervision. He and Claudia spent many afternoons dancing through the living room, accompanied by the claps of a much too enthusiastic dancing instructor.

He was quite the good dancer, though he was quite the clumsy individual in normal day-to-day life, but as it came to dancing he was light footed and skilled. Naturally, it came not as easy to him to dance with potential marriage material, to which he needed to be nice and polite. "So I believe now it's time to be charming, right?" He sighed, looking at Malik from the side, which stood close beside him after he just brought him something to drink. The night was already hovering above Masyaf castle and down in the city there were much more amusing festivities as he very well knew. He already took care of all the annoying nitty-gritty of the court protocol after his coronation. He attended the banquet that had been given in his honor, after he changed his clothes and he already opened the ball two hours ago. To dance with his granny had surely been the highlight of the day – though it had felt great to be crowned king, he could not deny that truth. Altaїr always had been a person that somewhat liked being placed on a high shelf, so he could look down on others. He knew that his arrogance was often misunderstood, but he liked it. Moreover, he had liked sitting on the throne and being applauded and sang to and to feel the excitement of the crowd (with exception of the Sofians of course).

His granny already retreated to her chambers and Altaїr was glad she did, for he did not want to damage her health any more than it already was. When she parted from him she kissed his forehead and only then retreated and Altaїr, though with red cheeks, had not minded her kissing him like this in front of all those people, if only because he knew that his subjects were looking up to the queen grandmother still. They adored her and he could only hope to be adored just like her. He had much of his granny, one once told him, but then again people tended to say things to him, from which they knew he would like to hear.

"Just don’t be too charming, otherwise maybe some girl will leave too early and lose a glass slipper." Malik replied quietly but with a smirk.

By now the polite smile Altaїr had put on to greet all his guests hurt and was nearly solid on his face. He sure liked to party, but the parties he normally attended were not as stiff as this. Even the Sofians he greeted as politely as humanly possible and they replied with the same fake politeness while probably hiding daggers underneath their clothes. He recognized many of the women he had placed on the guest list, as ordered by Malik and his advisors and he noticed the way they were behaving. A lot of them were fluttering their eyelashes or hiding their cutest smiles behind their elegant fans and all of them were waiting for him to ask them to dance. With a few of them he had already danced, simply because the king was not allowed to just stand there and chat with people – especially not with his bodyguard. Malik on the other hand gave his very best to appear as if he was not there at all and he did make a real good job, that was for certain, because most people did not even seem to notice him in his black sherwani and trousers. He looked way too handsome in those traditional clothes and with the dark red sachet around his hips. Fucking prick.

"There." Malik finally said and leant closer to his ear, so his breath was tingling slightly at Altaїr's ever so sensitive ear. He did not point, but Altaїr followed his gaze. "The dark haired dame in the grey-blue dress. Ask her, it seems she does not want to be here at all."

"Wouldn’t that be mean?" Altaїr chuckled but Malik only grinned and nudged him again invisible for the crowd. One small glance to his advisors told Altaїr that they did not like having a bodyguard advising their king like this, but Altaїr finally decided to listen to Malik and left his place. If this woman really did not want to be here then it was his duty to torment her. He should not be the only one who felt tormented like this on his own party. Plus, she was really pretty, that he could grant Malik. He had an eye for beauty. When she noticed the king coming her way she shortly tried to escape but then committed to her fate and decided to be more polite and accept his wish to dance.

She was the only woman he danced with this night that did not seem to think of herself as Cinderella – and it really was a bit fun too. She was delicate in built and a good dancer. Her feet were just as quick as his were and she had no real problem to keep up with his speed at all. "How in the world do I even deserve the honor of this dance, your majesty?" The voice of the woman finally sounded and he could not deny that he indeed noticed the teasing undertone in her voice. The look of her bright blue eyes that she granted him was cheeky to say the least and straight forward. There was wisdom behind her eyes, he could already sense that. Not to mention that he recognized the thick accent of her quite strained Arabic.

Altaїr simply smirked. "My bodyguard told me to ask you." He replied cheekily in his best British English (Uncle Haytham would be proud of him and Uncle William not so much). "That would at least be the honest answer to your question, but of course, if you insist, I could think of some romantic little fairy tale real quick."

She laughed a little, seemingly pleased by his honesty – and his English. "I like the truth better, your majesty, so I'd prefer to stick to it. But I wonder why you ask your bodyguard for advice, isn’t that a bit unusual for a king?" She then asked in her mother tongue and he noticed how she shortly glanced at Malik. Her face appeared a bit too smug for his liking, when she looked at Malik. She looked as if she knew Malik and in Altaїr's head, there was a small movie already unfolding. What if this woman was Malik's lover? She would suit him! She and her clever eyes! She was sassy, as it seemed, just as Malik! Oh, it would be just like Malik to torment his girlfriend with this dance, wouldn't it?

"Well, I trust him." He replied as a matter of course to get back her attention and tried to not raise his voice at all. "It would be dumb if I wouldn’t, right? And I guess if I trust him with my life I can trust him with the choice of my dancing partner too."

"You are right, your majesty, at least as long as you forget that the choice of your dancing partner might speak for the choice of your future bride too." She replied calmly when she looked at him again. "By the way, your majesty, you are quite impolite. I assumed it would befit a young gentleman, no matter his status, to first ask a lady for her name."

He smirked and tried to appear as impish as possible, maybe hoping to hide his misbehavior behind cuteness, like a puppy dog that just pissed on the carpet. "Forgive me I have much to learn still. Do you give me a second chance?" He then tried. "I heard so many names tonight and not even half of it I could repeat to you. Dare I ask you for your name again, like the idiot I am?"

She smiled. Well, the puppy eyes never missed their target. "I think considering your nice way of asking, I could swallow my British pride a bit." She replied – very charming he might have added. "My name is Maria Thorpe and I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, your majesty. But yes, an idiot you are, but a cute one at least."

He really felt how his skin grew a little hotter and how his ears turned red – and of course, he noticed how the people around them started whispering behind their hands. "Maybe I should add that to my title then? King Altaїr Ibn-La'Ahad the first, cutest idiot of them all. Sounds good, doesn’t it?" He grinned. "So you're from Britain, so I didn’t misinterpret your accent then. I lived there for a while. Beautiful country – too much rain though."

Her laughter was restrained but as honest as it got. "A beautiful title indeed, it suits you." She smiled and Altaїr wondered if she enjoyed the looks of all the women, wanting to swap places with her. "I'm glad you like my country, though I don’t like it as much as I should do, I suppose. I am no fan of all this rain and cloudy weather, but I do like this place. I always liked it here."

"Oh, so you have been here before?" Altaїr asked curiously. "I always felt as if I was dragged away from his place. If I'm honest I had a hard time coming back to Syria after all those years away from home." He still felt like an alien here, but Malik helped him more with that than he was even aware at this point.

"As a child, yes, and then later again for my studies. I always liked traveling, so I think we do have this in common." She answered and she seemed to honestly enjoy his company. "It seems that your bodyguard takes great care of getting you to get comfortable in the society of Masyaf again, at least that’s what Abbas Sofian told me."

He couldn’t help but scrunch up his face a bit as if he had just bitten into a very sour lemon as the name fell, but he smirked immediately again when he noticed that faux pas. "I can't say he is wrong about that, no matter how much I would like to." He grinned. "I know Malik since our childhood. He was a big help for me after I came back home."

"I'm glad to hear that he is such a loyal companion still." She smiled. "A king needs such people on his side, your father and his own bodyguard was the best example of that. However, it's such a pity what has happened to Faheem Al-Sayf. You did hear about it, didn’t you?"

"He was Malik's father." Altaїr smirked and shortly glanced at Malik again, knowing that he was watching him (or maybe Maria?). "I know that he died while I was away. He was like a father to me, because my own father had been too busy being king most of the time." He remembered receiving the news of his death and he remembered how hard the loss had hit him. "My Uncle Giovanni said he had a heart-attack."

Maria's face suddenly changed a little bit, but then she smiled again and when the music finally died off and the people started applauding the band, she let go of him and so did he. "Maybe we can dance again later, even though this hope seems ridiculous." She said and dropped a curtsy in the most elegant way he ever saw. "At least like this you would keep the other dames at bay." She added with a smirk.

Altaїr was still a bit unsure of what to make of her facial expression before. Had Giovanni maybe lied to him back then? "Sounds tempting." He chuckled and bowed down for her a bit to kiss her delicate hand (as Leonardo taught him to). He looked after Maria, when she walked away, before he made his escape to his spot at Malik's side again before some other girl could decide to get his attention. He wanted to grab a glass of Champaign, but he did not even get that far, for an elderly man almost threw his daughter at him and Altaїr had no other choice than to go back to dancing right away. One hour later, his feet were hurting and he felt dizzy because of all those stupidly giggling girls. It was already past midnight, when his eyes fell upon Maria again, standing near the doors to the balcony. So she did not run away as the clock turned twelve. She appeared quite amused, when she got two glasses of champagne and managed to bridge the distance to give one to him. "Are you enjoying yourself, my king?" She smirked.

Maria suddenly was like an angel to him, an angel that brought him alcohol. "I feel violated." He pouted after his last dance partner came a little bit too close for his liking, but now he clinked glasses with Maria. "And I am one hundred percent positive that this woman tried to imagine how I look naked." He added with a grin and Maria burst out in laughter.

"Oh you poor, poor king. I think your bodyguard should bring you something to eat and tug you in then." Yes, he really was tired – and hungry. "After all we don’t want to risk that this poor dame will get disappointed when she will finally get what she want and sees a twig and not the tree she expected."

"You are clever." He chuckled. "Much more clever than I, I think. I really am tired. But you are right, that we cannot risk, just imagine the disappointment of this lovely woman!" Well, he was not ever going to be muscular. "Maybe I should start work out with my bodyguard."

"I believe you will never meet this woman's expectation, my king. But you are not that type of man that needs muscles to convince." She chuckled and winked at him, before she pressed a gentle kiss to his left cheek and then dropped a courtesy once again. "I wish you a good night, my king."

It seemed Maria Thorpe did not care for her reputation or for the faces, the women around them made after she kissed him. Of course, he too was surprised, but smirked. He looked after her again, but when he turned and looked at Malik, he noticed the suddenly angered glance the man shot after her. Oh, for fuck's sake she was his lover, was she not? One woman almost dropped her glass. It seemed, as the scandal prince was the scandal king right on his first evening of being king. With a smug grin, he came back to Malik. "I'm tired." He mumbled and again tried his best puppy eyes on Malik. It did not seem to work at first, his face was still stoic – more than normal – but then he nodded politely and turned to the advisors to tell them. Malik still did not manage a smile when they retreated from the ballroom and walked all the way back to his chambers. Of course, the newspapers would be full of the kiss that just had happened and Altaїr was not even sorry for it.

"I am hurting all over!" He moaned, when the door of his chambers finally were closed and tried to stretch. He tried to, because he did not even get as far, when a strong hand was grabbing his left upper arm and pulled him back. First, he was jolting into panic. Did he not notice a possible threat? An assassin? A bomb perhaps? Then his back was slammed into the door to his chambers and before he understood what was going on Malik's lips were upon his and his own fingers had snaked their way around his neck.

 


	6. obstacles

Masyaf was coated in sugar, when Leonardo arrived at the fortress just one day after the coronation. He originally wanted to give the young king more time to adjust to his new task in life, but then again he could not stand waiting. He never had and he never would. Every minute he had to stay put in Florence had made him all the more antsy and irritated, until he simply had not been able to stand it any longer. "Look at this." He sighed when he got out of the black Rolls Royce, after the driver had stopped the car on the inner courtyard behind the thick stonewalls and gates and opened the door for him. He was quite accustomed to luxury like this, though he was no noble man himself. Moreover, it surely was not the first time that he visited royalty. Still, he was just a painter, just common folk, having the luck to have noble friends and allies. "Marvelous." He breathed.

" _C-C-C-Cold!_ " A voice behind him exclaimed, but Leonardo did not make haste in getting into the fortress and out of the cold only because his companion was such a wuss. He was used to coldness like this, after he had been brought up in a part of Italy where it got very cold very quickly, as soon as winter hit, though it had never been as cold there as it was here in the mountains of western Syria. The savant in him told him of course that it was indeed possible to get temperatures like these in this part of the world too, but the idealist and dreamer that normally ruled his mind was baffled. He needed to admit that he had been fascinated by the ideas of the Arabian nights, of concubines in silk and chiffon, of dark skinned men and the burning heat of the sun and the dust hanging low in the air. " _S-S-S-So C-C-C-C-Cold!"_ Ezio Auditore _da Firenze_ on the other hand … Well, he was just spoiled.

"Look at this stonework!" The painter exclaimed pointing at the towers with both his hands in an all-embracing gesture. "Look at the minarets! Marvelous! Absolutely stunning! _Dio_! I could spent years in this place and would not have seen every little marvel this place has to offer! I cannot wait to paint this place!"

"You are here to paint the cricket king!" Ezio reminded him, jumping from one foot to the other, after he stepped closer to Leonardo, his hands buried deep within the pockets of his parka. Ezio appeared quite misplaced in that big ass jacket, but underneath he was wearing a suit and tie, just as Leonardo did, after all, they got the chance of meeting a king. A _cricket king_ as Ezio said, but still a king.

Said King welcomed them just two hours later in the throne room, after his companion on this journey and he himself moved into their rooms, which they would inhabit until Leonardo would be done with his work – and of course, Leonardo would make sure to not make haste at all with this portrait. The faster he would be finished with this portrait, the lesser time he would have with his new surroundings, after all.

Altaїr looked marvelous. Leonardo had last seen him in July, when Ezio had had his birthday party, but he looked changed. Just one week and Altaїr was changed. He was a king now. Unmistakably.

"Your majesty." Leonardo smirked later that day, looking up from his brush to look straight at Altaїr, who stood around in his throne room for hours now like a statue, against everything Leonardo knew about this antsy young man who never could sit still for less than ten minutes even if his life would depend on it. "You look quite stiff, is everything alright?" It was stunning how fast Altaїr's face could turn a bright red, but hardly new to Leonardo, after having spent oh so many years with that boy.

"Of course!" Altaїr hissed and clearly, that was a lie. A lie Leonardo was able to look right through.

●●●●●●●●●●

Malik was a devil. This was not new. He had always been a devil, even as a child. "I'll pay you back for this." Altaїr moaned into the pillow in his face.

"You brought that upon yourself, your majesty." When he came back to Syria, Altaїr had been sure that he would never lie with a man again and to him it was quite frankly a mystery how Malik found the courage to get this close to him, not knowing if the now king would throw him out immediately in disgust. Altaїr had never experienced the way of flirting between men here in this country, but he knew that it was very subtle. So, had he maybe been flirting without even noticing? Well, if he had, then good job brain! If he had not, then … Wow this guy had balls.

"You still like to push me around, don’t you?"

"I couldn’t resist. I thought someone would need to cheer you up after this day." Malik grinned, when Altaїr finally turned his head to look at him. He was boneless and could not even think straight anymore. Their clothes were scattered all over the place and he could hardly even remember what just happened so surprisingly it came over him.

Malik was a man with the body of a god and Altaїr felt his ears growing hot, as he noticed how long he just stared at his body, at the firm muscles shaping its form, at the pecks and his abs. Oh, fuck this guy! Malik was lying on his back, one arm crossed underneath his head and looking quite pleased with himself, while Altaїr was still gasping for breath, confused and shaken by the aftermath of his orgasm. For a moment, he closed his eyes and only opened them again when he felt Malik's fingers brushing over the curve of his spine.

"So Maria Thorpe is a woman now." He suddenly stated and left Altaїr only more confused. It took him a lot more effort than he would like to admit to move again, but finally he managed to at least sluggishly roll onto his side so he could better look at Malik, whose hand was now uselessly resting on his hip, his thumb rubbing soothing circles onto his skin ever so lightly.

"You know her?" Altaїr finally asked. Before Malik started ravaging his kingly body as he did just moments ago, he had been very positive that Malik and Maria were a couple in some way or another, but now he was not so sure any longer. It was weird what one moment could change. He never thought Malik could be gay or that he was lucky enough to get his best friend back like _this_.

"Of course! She was the most rowdily girl I've ever encountered. Don’t you remember her? She was the girl who pushed you into the mud when you were six!" Malik snickered and Altaїr needed a moment to really contemplate.

"Oh just wait Maria … I'll get back to you…" He announced with squinted eyes. Yes, the next time he would see her; it would be her face making acquaintances with a puddle of mud!

"I'm afraid you can't pay it back to her, after all you are king now, Altaїr. You are not allowed to play in the mud anymore and I won't buy you new rubber boots, because the last time you got some you destroyed them." Well, at least Malik had fun and Altaїr liked seeing him grin and smirk as he now did. It felt more like it had when they were kids, right before they needed to part ways. For him it had been devastating to leave behind Malik. His whole world had crumbled and now it seemed that his world was slowly piecing itself together again, piece by piece by piece. "Other than this, she is the daughter of one of your most important trading partners in the United Kingdom. I think he wouldn’t like it if you would push his daughter into a puddle of mud."

"Oh I'll find a way." Altaїr then hummed and would try to appear more threating, if he would not been oh so exhausted. "If nothing else will help, I will throw a cake into her face! Other than this, who says, I am not allowed to play in the mud any longer? I am the king, I do what I want!" And if he wanted to play in the mud, he would play in the mud! With that, he not only wiggled closer to Malik, but also down right crawled onto him, resting his elbows onto Malik's broad chest and stared down at him like a cat wanting a treat.

"What?" Malik snickered, though cocking one eyebrow at the behavior of his king. He did not mind feeling Malik's left hand on his bum, quite the contrary. He liked it very much.

"I was wondering what made you so sure that I was gay, that you initiated a kiss. I could've thrown you out. I could've fired you." Altaїr sighed and he did not care at all if the bones of his elbows might be a little uncomfortable for Malik in the way they were digging into his skin and muscles now.

"I just assumed." Malik grinned. "As a gay man I can see if my opponent prefers women over men and you, my king, were so adamant to proof to the world that you was not gay, that it made it all the more obvious to me that you are." Malik's voice was soft as velvet as he spoke and so deep, Altaїr liked to listen to him all night long. Now that he was lying on top of Malik, he could feel the vibrations of his dark rumbling voice so clearly.

Altaїr was silent for just this moment. Well, he assumed that this made really good sense, for this was exactly how he had felt all the time. Every time the media or some stupid boulevard paper decided to publish gossip and rumors about the possible gay Arabian prince, only for he had gotten a new piercing or a new haircut, he ran and searched some stupid girl to wander around and be caught with on camera. Maybe it had not been so much because he cared for the opinion the media had about him, but because he had been so afraid because of his own country's believes or what his grandmother might have done. "It's not that I don’t _like_ women." He tried to defend his (practically nonexistent) heterosexuality, though he had been just fucked by a guy. "It's just that they are not my preference."

"So why did you hook up with so many girls then?" Malik asked quietly, his calloused fingers rubbing soothing circles over his lower back.

"It weren't _so many_." He shrugged and rested his chin on Malik's chest. "And I didn’t have any other choice really… I mean, most of the times when I was partying I was out with Ezio and he always threw girls right at me! He would've suspected something if I wouldn’t have hooked up with at least some of them…" That was weak and he knew this. This was neither a real good defense nor justification. This was the argument of a person that did not have a backbone. "It's not easy to find a guy to hook up with, without the risk of being outed to the public and as you can imagine that would not have been really that wise to risk, right? Most of the people that tried to hook up with me - no matter if girl or guy - did so because they knew who I was and wanted their own fifteen minutes of fame I suppose."

"I know how that feels." Malik sighed and laid his hand on the small of his back, resting it there after he was done with caressing his skin, though Altaїr would not have minded to keep it where it was before. "But since you were obviously no virgin, how in the world did you even manage to get laid?" He then grinned intrusively. He would not have given an answer to other people if they had asked him that, but Malik and he were sitting in the same boat, as it seemed. They were living in a country that absolutely hated fags. They were considered a crime against their religion. _He_ of all people! A gay king of an Arabic country that believed in Islam! He knew what gay had to go through in other parts of Syria and Masyaf, though more liberal than the rest of the country, was no different in that concern.

"I don’t know. Luck, maybe." He sighed. "But more than a quickie on a toilet was never to be expected and that sucked." He then answered. He was quite the cuddler, especially after sex, but that was something that simply wouldn’t happen on a dirty toilet, he assumed – and it was not as if he wanted to cuddle with the people he hooked up with on a dirty toilets anyway, wearing shades and having always his hood on.

"Then … How did you even learn that you are gay?" Malik gently pressed forward, trying to get more and more of all those juicy little details out of him, but for once Altaїr did not mind. He was quite restrictive most of the time, though he never cared if his naked but was on the cover of some magazine.

"I guess like everyone." He sheepishly grinned. "But my good friend Leonardo helped with that to a great deal."

●●●●●●●●●●

It was not easy to concentrate on keeping completely still. Not with Malik in the room. It was not so much because Altaїr could not think of anything but to rip his clothes off again, but because he found himself glancing at Malik and having a hard time containing his laughter about the extremely pissed-off face he was making while being in the very same room as _Leonardo_.

Their conversation was still fresh in his mind, just like the feeling of being touched by those ridiculously strong hands of his bodyguard and he still remembered how Malik drilled further, after the name Leonardo had fallen for the first time last night. Of course, Altair could have lied to him or just not tell him, but he did. He told him how he came to Leonardo at the tender age of sixteen, confused and heartbroken because he slowly began to understand that he liked men much more than he liked women. It had been a hard time, with his cousins Ezio and Federico around him, pressing him to _get it on_ with random girls they came across. And he did. He did what they told him to, because they were the older and more experienced guys and back then they were what he wanted to be; independent, self-conscious, leaders people were looking up to. That was the only reason, why he played by their rules and got involved into their ridiculous competition. He had known back then, that Leonardo was gay and so he went to the artist, to the only person he could think of that would be able to really help him with that situation.

He also told Malik that he slept with Leonardo … a few times.

Maybe that was the reason why Malik put down the tray with their tea a little bit harder, after he took it from the butler, who just knocked seconds before at the door of Altaїr's office. They retreated to his office after spending almost the entire morning in his throne room while Leonardo sketched the portrait that he wanted to paint of the young king. His infamous cousin was not with them anymore, instead Ezio roamed around the castle or probably even the city itself. Ezio was one great discoverer and especially he liked to discover what the local women had to offer to him. Though he was not just an angry and hormone driven caveman.

He felt Malik's gaze upon him, as soon as he grabbed his cup of tea, but he did not say anything. It was weird. Of course, they spent the last night together - and it had been marvelous - but to Altaїr it was still quite puzzling what to make of this whole situation. They were clearly no couple for this was no romance novel or cliché Hollywood movie in which the one that needed protection fell in love with their protector. They could not afford love and the both of them knew that pretty well. Out here, they were the king and his guardian, behind closed doors though…

"Is everything alright?" Leonardo chuckled after what seemingly had been an eternity of Altaїr staring into the nothingness with his cup in his hands. He almost let it slip from his fingers as Leonardo startled him like this.

"Of course." He found himself saying and glanced at Malik, who silently nodded and then left the room. He did not need to have him around all the time of course, but he felt safer if Malik was around him all the time. This needed to stop. "I just… I just feel so paranoid since I am back here." He then stated after the door to the hallway fell shut and leant back in his (father's) chair. "I don’t know. It is as if everything is coming back at once, you know? All those years of terror and of being frightened for dear life with every passing second. I thought it would get better as soon as I am crowned king, but it's not. It's only growing worse and worse and it's not even two days yet. I don’t need an assassin to kill me in favor of the Sofians. I manage to kill myself at this ratio. I'll just get a heart attack or something."

Leonardo laughed and oh, how he had missed that sound. He could almost feel the warmth of the sun over Florence in his laughter. He always liked being around Leonardo, despite everything what his cousin Federico told him. The Auditore men were a bunch of machos, not to say testosterone driven idiots and though his uncle Giovanni was a cosmopolitan guy, just as Ezio, they all lacked understanding and tactfulness from time to time. To Federico it had been quite clear never to set foot into Leonardo's atelier, though he always had been a very welcome guest in the Auditore mansion, after he had first learned about Leonardo's preferences. Ezio briefly _warned_ him about those preferences, when Altaїr was only twelve, but despite that warning, Leonardo was still Ezio's best friend and most trusted companion. Well, that would definitely change if he would learn about the things that had indeed happened in Leonardo's atelier between the two of them.

"You need to relax." Leonardo snickered. "Am I wrong to assume that your new found bodyguard can help you _unwind_ from time to time?"

Oh, he felt his ears growing hot again. "Is it so fucking obvious?" Because there was no point in lying, was there? Leonardo knew him for so long and he had always trusted him with his secrets and worries, so why should he stop now? "Because if it is, then I need to fire him or degrade him. You know how things are in this country, Leo."

"I doubt they will stone their king to death." Leo gently smiled, though Altaїr knew that he understood. Of course he did. He was Leonardo da Vinci! He was a genius! He was the most intelligent man he knew (with exception of himself of course) and he had taught him so much more than any of his teachers could have. And apparently he was not done teaching yet.

"No they won't, but they would stone Malik to death and they would perhaps even support the Sofians claim to the throne." He sighed rubbing his temples, after putting his cup down again.

"Don’t worry." Leo smiled. "I just know how you are behaving after sex, so yes: to _me_ it's quite obvious. But I am glad that you found someone in this dire situation to cheer you up a bit from time to time."

"Well, but it can't happen again, can it? We should not have this kind of relationship. That’s not professional." That was at least what his brains told him and now he needed someone to tell him otherwise. He was not used to being the responsible adult in a situation. He was the petulant child that screamed and wailed until he got what he wanted for Christ's sakes! "I don’t even know why it happened! It's not like we are in love or something stupid like that."

"Love comes in many different shapes and forms, dear friend. You do not need to _love_ him as the movies tell the world all the time. You can love him as a friend and still sleep with him from time to time, as long as you are not hurting anybody with it and as long as you both want it. However, you are right to be cautious about this whole situation and you need to be aware of the fragility of his relationship you are forming with your protector. The people of your kingdom are suspicious of you, mostly for the way you have been behaving abroad and for the things that they had to read about you. They never got any reason to be proud of their crown prince within those last seven years and as far as I am aware you are ruling over a kingdom that is liked to be ruled by a king and that is very proud of their monarchs."

"So what now?" Altaїr sighed. He really was deeply concerned, because now, that he had felt the weight of the crown on his head for the first time, he started to understand what his personal decisions could mean to his people. He was no longer an individual and whatever happened behind closed doors needed to stay behind closed doors.

"So you give them a reason to be proud of their king now." Leonardo smirked. "I think they will lap every reason to be proud of you right off the ground. I studied your kingdom and I know that the people of your kingdom loved your family dearly. They love you dearly from the moment you have been born. Now it is time to repay them their love and support."

Maybe that was the more troubling thing. His subjects could not see him as their king for he did not do anything to make them see him as their king. Well, of course it was not even two days yet… "So, what are you proposing?"

"I thought you had advisors for this kind of conversations, my king." Leonardo laughed and sipped his tea.

"I do, but I do want to hear your opinion. My kingdom is small and in a dire situation, though the people are trying to ignore that fact. Syria is torn by war. The fundamentalists are trying to rip the whole country apart and to kill everyone that is against their ridiculous beliefs. By now, Masyaf is lucky enough to not be a target of those fuckers, but I am not willing to think that this will be a fact forever. They will try to annex Masyaf, but our army is small and our alleys not willing t engage in this war. _I_ am not willing to engage in that war." And what about all the refugees that would flee the war and try to get shelter here in Masyaf? Their economy was strong, but would if suffice?

"You forgot the farmers outside the city walls." Leonardo then stated softly.

"What about them?"

"They are fighting a war of their own. They could not care less if their monarch is gay, straight, or preferred goats over humans. A great deal of them is having problems with their farm animals or their crops. It was a harsh winter up until now and there is no end in sight yet. A lot of them are hopeless and those that are not, are having the problem that their usual trade fair is limited due to the war at the moment. Those who weren't struck by the winter so much, are now facing the problem of having too much goods which they can't sell and slowly becoming spoiled."

Altaїr sighed and drove his hands over his face. He had advisors of course, but up until now, those advisors had not talked to him about those problems. They decided it would be more important to torment him with marriage material and boring lectures about the guests he had been awaiting for his coronation day. "I should know about those things, shouldn’t I?" He asked, but it was a question meant to himself and not for Leonardo. Of course, he should know. "As I know you, I bet you already have a plan for those problems, am I right?"

And good old Leonardo da Vinci smirked.

●●●●●●●●●●

It was late when Malik sank into the mattress and tried to finally forget about the events of this day. It had been one awful long day – that, he could not deny. It had started with news from the academy and his brother who really managed to break a leg during a training session and was coming home soon for a few weeks to rest and get well again. From then on his day only got worse, because of course the magazines had picked up on the good night kiss, Maria Thorpe gave the young king in a country were most women were considered ornament so f their home and were supposed to always behave chastely. But for his brother … Well, he rather would have him staying there to learn. It was not as if he would not love his younger brother - he did love him very much of course - it was more that he did not want to even imagine Kadar and Altaїr being on the same spot of this planet again. Both of them were rascals and together their chaos potential was only doubled.

How was he supposed to protect Altaїr like that?

Well, that was a worry he could postpone to the next day, he thought. Tomorrow he would find a solution for that problem, if it really turned out to be a problem. Maybe he worried too much and would grow grey hairs quite fast because of it. They were no children after all and Altaїr - the king - had more pressing things to worry about than Kadar.

He had more pressing worries than _him_.

Maybe he had let himself get carried away last night. He should not have done it and he knew it. He should not have kissed him - and he should not have slept with him … _twice_. Still he did not regret it. Oh no, quite the contrary! He had enjoyed every little second of it and he still enjoyed remembering the last night.

A part of him wanted to ask the stupid question what all that meant, but the adult in him knew exactly what last night's events meant. They were no children anymore and the Altaїr who was now crowned king was not the same boy who left Masyaf all those years ago. They were not those best friends anymore and it was questionable if they could become that once again. _We could become lovers though_ , he found himself thinking and almost punched himself in the head. Well, maybe he was a romantic kind of guy and maybe he even read one or two romance novels in his life too much, but he was a jealous guy and that was the sole problem. Altaїr would never be his, no matter their hypothetical feeling and Malik hated that.

Seeing Altaїr dancing with Maria Thorpe, witnessing that innocent kiss to the cheek that had meant so much more than Altaїr even fathomed, had driven him mad with jealousy and that even in a moment when he had not been oh so sure that Altaїr was in fact gay! Moreover, even if he was, his move had been the most riskiest he had ever dared to try! And now Leonardo was here. When Altaїr talked to him about that guy last night, he had imagined something else than that. He did not even know why, but when Altaїr spoke about the man he had gifted his virginity too at the tender age of sixteen, he had thought him to be a whole other kind of guy. Maybe he wanted to think of a fat Italian plumber, of someone that was entirely different from him, of someone who had nothing to offer to the young prince in contradiction to Malik of course! And now he had seen Leonardo and needed to understand that he was one hellish handsome guy and the images he had seen in his mind last night turned from gut wrenching into wet dreams.

It was not right.

He had no right to be jealous. He had no right to be possessive. What happened last night would not happen again and-

The door was opened with a small squeak and he heard the tapping of naked feet on the wooden floorboards before his blanket shifted and a weight dropped onto his mattress. "Oh for god's sake, what are you even doing with those feet? Do you stick them into an ice bucket before torturing me with them?" Malik moaned. He should kick him out instead, shouldn’t he? However, it was as Altaїr said the first time he visited Malik's bed: He was the king. He could do whatever he liked to do.

Altaїr on the other hand just snickered as if he had done exactly as Malik just said. He would not put it past him either. Malik laid there stiff as a board when he felt how the king was snuggling closer, just to wrap his arms around him and when Malik did not make a move into the embrace, still lying exhausted on his back, he felt how the obviously not so tired king crawled on top of him, his elbows digging into his chest like they did last night.

"So what do you even want, your majesty?" Malik sighed but crossed his arms under his head. Feeling Altaїr's hipbones digging into his abdomen was not an easy task to ignore. Oh, for fucks sake! One week! It had been only one week and he had already fucked the king! It was not as if he had no self-control, but he was just a young adult male too and Altaїr was deliciously pretty to look at, if he was to be honest. Discovering his own sexuality had not been an easy thing for him. He had been devastated when he realized the truth about his own self and what it would mean to him and his life. Oh, he was to be married and he was to have kids to keep up the line of royal protectors, just as Altaїr, whether he liked it or not! They were sitting in the same boat without life jackets or even rudders, so they could at least try to move away from the approaching storm. They were doomed. The both of them. And it was their own fault. No, it was _his_ fault for starting all this last night.

"You were jealous." Altaїr grinned in the darkness. He could see his ridiculously white teeth in the moon light.

"And you should not lie here but rule a kingdom, now get out." Malik replied dryly and tried to bounce him off. It did not work. Of course not. All it did was to make ignoring his groin harder and harder and Altaїr seemed to know that pretty well, the way his grin widened.

"I'm done ruling for today." He then sighed and rested his chin on Malik's chest like a lazy and fat cat.

"You are not. You are never done ruling." Malik then groaned. His bed really was too small for two adults and having another man lying on top of him with bones as sharp as razors was not very comfortable. He could of course grab the king and carry him back to his bed, but would that not be very unruly for a royal bodyguard?

Altaїr pressed his cheek to his chest and Malik's heart was heavy because of it. He had seen the look on Altaїr's face when he came back home to Syria and now he could not forget it. He had thought him to be just a random prick, just a teenager going postal, but suddenly he started to get it. No, that was not true. He got it right from the start because it was just as he said a little while ago. They were the same. Neither of them chose the path they were now going. Now Altaїr seemed all the more like a bird that got his wings clipped. Maybe it was not so much Leonardo who made him jealous today, but seeing Altaїr together with the painter and his Italian cousin that did. Malik never experienced the freedom the king had experienced and thus he could not even fathom what it meant to give it up now only because convictions told him to.

"What are we doing now?" Altaїr sighed and though it was quite clear to Malik what he meant, he liked to pretend that he did not. He liked seeing Altaїr around those foreigners today. He liked hearing him talk to them and the smile he granted them. Inside this castle, Altaїr was a different man. He was serious and only rarely smiled sine he was here - not grinning, _smiling_! Out there, he had been a child and a happy one for that matter; in here, he was forced to be an adult, a bitter one.

"You, my king, are now going back to your bed to sleep." Malik sighed when he managed to escape out from under him. Before Altaїr could even try to protest, Malik flung back his blanket and grabbed Altaїr by the left arm to throw him over his shoulder like a sack of grain. Altaїr squealed like a very surprised hamster when he found himself hanging over Malik's shoulder as if he was weighing nothing at all.

"Hey what are you even doing?" He yelped, but at least had the decency not to struggle and spare them both from the embarrassment that would come with such an erratic behavior. "Malik! Put me down!"

"I bring you back to your bed, since I assume that you won't go freely." Malik groaned and strode towards the door. It was easier than he would have imagined, for Altaїr just hung there boneless, as if he had accepted his fate already. He was a bit heavier like this though.

"You're damn right." Altaїr moaned. "If you try to escape talking about what happened last night like this, it won't work, you know?"

"Figured." Malik sighed, leaving his room and strolling through the king's chambers as if it was the most normal thing to do. He could not help but smirk, when he remembered the various incidents when he spotted his father carrying the young prince like this because he had tried to escape again to somewhere he was not supposed to go. "I tell you what happened last night: We fucked. Things like that happen. We are both gay, we felt attracted towards one another and we slept together. That’s it. There is no greater story or mystery behind last night's events and nothing we need to talk about really." When he arrived in Altaїr's bedroom, he felt bad for saying it as it was, though it was the truth was it not? That was exactly how things were between them now and there was no way to say any different, right?

Altaїr was quiet though he grumbled something behind Malik's back (well, his head was hanging down his back after all). "It was not my first one night stand, you know?" Altaїr then mumbled and suddenly bit down in his lower back and made him flinch.

"Ouch! What the hell are you doing?" Malik hissed and paused for a moment.

"Showing my anger! Now put me down!" He was not as enraged as he tried to appear, that Malik could already tell and he found it hilarious. Altaїr was more like a pouting child again that did not get what it wanted - which was his dick apparently. Instead of saying something, Malik found himself pinching Altaїr's bum so hard the king flinched and struggled for a moment, before they reached his bed and Malik just let the king fall onto the mattress.

"And now sleep." Malik grinned, but he did not even managed to get as far as two feet away from the bed, before Altaїr grabbed his wrist and pulled him onto his bed with such a force that Malik really lost his balance and fell down on the mattress. Normally we would not have let his guard down like this, but now he could not help but laugh and rolled onto his side. He gave up. He was tired and he gave up. It had been a long day and Altaїr's bed was oh so soft. He just pulled up the covers and did not even mind that Altaїr came snuggling to his side again as he did last night or in the night they spent in Malik's room.

"I like to hear you talking in Italian." Malik finally confessed, as he closed his left arm around him and shut his eyes.

●●●●●●●●●●

"Maria Thorpe?" Alya Ibn-La'Ahad chuckled, when her chambermaid helped her to get into her bed. It had gotten ridiculously exhausting to get into bed lately. It was as if every day it was getting more and more exhausting and Alya hated this feeling more than anything else. She felt weak and as if her bones were made of wood, stiff and inflexible. She was used to this kind of feeling by now; and still, she did not like it. She was not used to being _old_ , though she was old for a very long time now. However, it was as if her body decided to grow exceptional old overnight. Her chambermaid laughed and her voice was soft and just as sweet as the Turkish tea she liked to serve to the elderly monarch.

"Yes, your majesty." The woman then chuckled. "Maria Thorpe. It was all over the news today. She even kissed the king on the cheek! Can you believe that, your majesty? The guests were in uproar! Especially the dames of course." She snickered while she gently fluffed up Alya's pillows before the elderly monarch could rest her tired head on it again.

"Oh I can." Alya smirked. "Maria was always like that, never gave a damn about the convictions of other countries and oh my, this boy…" Alya smiled, when she got comfortable in her bed. After all those years without her beloved husband at her side she was used to not having anyone sharing the bed with her, still she missed her husband's annoying snoring greatly. As a young woman, she nagged about it, even went so far to move out of their shared chambers to get at least a few nights of restful sleep, but as an old woman, she would greatly trade-off a night of undisturbed sleep to have his snoring back and the way he liked to twist and turn in bed. Altaїr and Umar had much of him, but her grandson did have more of his mother and maybe even of Alya herself, she briefly thought. "He will be a great king." She finally sighed and closed her eyes for a moment before opening them again. It was terribly hard. She sighed, because she would not be around to see him develop into the man he was bound to become. Right now, she could only imagine her grandson in a few years from now. "He will face many obstacles on his way though. Many enemies that he needs to fight and many losses he needs to endure. But I can feel that he will be the one king our kingdom needs for a great change." Yes, she was sure of it. Almost she could see it.

"But isn’t Lady Thorpe engaged to a French Lord?" The maid asked carefully as if she was afraid to upset the old dame in her bed, as she tucked her in gently.

"As if that would bother my grandson!" Alya laughed. "Oh no, they would fit together perfectly, don’t you think so too, my dear?" For a moment, Alya did not know if she was still talking to her chambermaid or to someone that used to lie beside her and wake her with his snoring every night they spent together. "An unconventional queen for an unconventional king. Their children will be a bunch of imps."

However, Alya was worried, though she tried not to show her worry all too much. Worrying now was no use for anyone. She was done worrying. However, her grandson would face greater problems than he was aware right now. The Sofians were dangerous, especially for a young and inexperienced boy as Altaїr was. He had Malik by his side and that was worth a lot, but would it suffice? Well, it must. Yet Syria was torn by war and Masyaf would not forever be able to escape those conflicts. How would Altaїr deal with this problem? How would he deal with the Sofians? Would he be victorious? She could only look positively in the future, whether she would be around to see the outcome or not. It did not matter.

"But won't he provoke a conflict like this? Syria is at war and he will need every bit of support he can get from all around the world, if those terrorists are to attack our beloved little kingdom too." Her chambermaid said and Alya saw the thick worry lines on her forehead. She was way too young for those deep lines she had already engraved into her forehead.

"He is a lot like his grandfather was, when it comes to things like this. His grandfather too stole me away from another man I was supposed to marry." She snickered and her maid just chuckled a bit, smoothing the blanket out over her, as she always used to, before retreating. Looking back now on her long, long life it was hardly imaginable to her that she had been young at all. Weird. She had spent almost her whole life in this kingdom and the stories of her youth, the romances and heartbreaks were so far, far away that she could hardly even remember the faces of long lost lovers. They did not matter anyway, she supposed.

After this Alya bit her most trusted chambermaid Aisha a good night and rested her head on her pillow. The queen grandmother did not find sleep right away. When she stared at the ceiling, she could feel her time ticking away like the sand within an hourglass and for the first time since the illness started to control her body, she was not afraid to close her eyes.

●●●●●●●●●●

Abbas was furious. "We should have killed him before he got crowned!" He growled and slammed his fist against the fireplace so heavy his knuckles hurt. He would have loved to state that the wood would break under the impact, but it was far more likely that his hand would give in instead, should he try this again. "Why did we wait so long? We should have killed him right away when he got out of this plane! We should have arranged his plane to crash! We should have poisoned the fucking champagne he drank on this flight!" So many unused opportunities!

His father remained calm though. He sat leant back in his armchair and did not even look at his foolish son. Ahmad Sofian was a man that adored power and his whole life he had been confident that he would someday have the power he so desired. His family had been pretermitted for as long as he could remember in the question of who should take the crown and that only because the Ibn-La'Ahads liked to play with dirty little tricks. Now he was already in his sixties and the dream of sitting on the throne of Masyaf was getting more and more and more out of reach with each passing day. He was not getting younger after all, but – and that was at least a small comfort to him – his son Abbas would profit greatly from his fight for the crown as soon as they, the Sofians, would finally get what they deserved.

"It would not have made any difference if the king would have died before his coronation or afterwards. His grandmother would have stayed in charge and she is stubborn enough to outlive all of us if necessary. You should not be so disheartened by the latest events. Sure, Altaїr is king now, but this is probably the best thing that could have ever happened to us." Ahmad finally stated calmly and took a sip from his brandy, before he placed the glass again on the small table beside his armchair. Abbas finally turned around to face his father, his face a mixture of disbelieve and rage. Altaїr had always been like a red rag to a bull to Abbas, since the day the young monarch had been born. Of course, they were hardly the same age and Abbas had been already fourteen when the prince had been born, but his hatred had been not less because of the age difference. Quite the contrary and Ahmad never quite got why that was. Maybe Abbas had hoped queen Maud would die before giving birth to the heir to the throne – which would have only delayed their little problem at best.

"What do you mean by that? Just look at this guy! He is a brat! A child! He is not even a real Syrian! He lived abroad during the last years! Have you not been reading the newspaper articles about him? He will ruin this kingdom with his foolishness!" Abbas spat and clenched his now shaking fists. Surely, with every new article that had been published about Altaїr, Abbas had grown more and more restless, his plans on killing Altaїr off more and more vivid.

"That is exactly what will benefit us, my son. Altaїr will dismantle himself in time. We won't have to get his blood on our hands."


	7. Losses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently this chapter is cursed. After finishing it today and bringing it home on the USB-Stick my Office decided to corrupt the file XD Though I managed to get it back, it's quite possible that I did not find all the errors. Sorry for that.

"Malik, no…" Altaїr moaned when he turned around in his large bed and tried to grab the older male by the wrist before Malik could stand up to do the horrible thing he wanted to do. "Don’t do it, Malik!"

"It's for your own good your majesty!" Malik laughed when he freed himself from Altaїr's desperate grip and escaped the bed.

"No, it's not!" Altaїr moaned, but he could not escape his fate. All he could do was to wiggle deeper under his blanket as Malik finally opened the large doors to his bedroom balcony to let the gush of fresh (and very cold) air inside. "Just so you know: You are responsible if your king dies of pneumonia! I bet you are working with my enemies to kill me and let it look like a natural cause. Someday I will freeze to death and no one knows why!" He was blind after he had pulled his blanket over his head, but he was startled yet again when something heavy fell down beside him onto the mattress and pulled him close – without letting him out of his cocoon. "And now you are trying to squash me to death!" He added with a small whine but muffled because of the blanket in his face. At this ratio, he would be smothered to death by noon because of his own stupidity.

"Yes well, you brought that upon yourself, your majesty." Malik sighed and gently pulled the blanket from Altaїr's face, so the king might live yet to see another day. He could feel the gush of cold air immediately, but Malik did not seem to care. Fucking prick. There he was, half-naked and did not even shiver because of the cold as if he was some superhuman! At least his arms did have the strength of a superhuman for sure.

"So, what now?" Altaїr huffed, but snuggled closer. He found himself enjoying the peace and quietude of this situation. He liked the feeling of having Malik so close and how strong his arms felt as they wound themselves tightly around his blanket-covered body. Only rarely in his life he had the chance to snuggle with another man like this in bed. He managed to get Leonardo a few times to cuddle with him, but it had not been all too comfortable on the ground of his atelier and most of the time the risk of being detected by his cousin had been too big for them to take it. Leonardo would never risk his friendship with Ezio and Altaїr had not want to risk being outed as gay to his cousin.

"Now we enjoy the fresh air and try to relax a moment before the day starts." Altaїr risked one small glance towards his window. Outside it was still dark, and as he glanced at his alarm clock, he noticed that it was only five AM. He had not heard it ringing, so Malik had apparently been woken by his inner alarm, as it seemed. What a prick.

"Aren't you a bit lazy? Should you not be doing something? I know you are normally going for a run at this time." He murmured. He knew that because he was up at this time too normally and then watched Malik from his window, as he was jogging around the vast gardens like a creepy stalker. Maybe he was a bit jealous of Malik's fitness and his shape. He would never be able to gain muscles as Malik had and maybe he was not supposed to, after all, he was the king now and he could not recall his father being all too muscular too. If anything, his father had possessed a little more stomach than he should. Mr. Al-Sayf – Mr. Faheem Al-Sayf – on the other hand… Well … Like father like son he guessed.

"Don’t worry I will." Malik chuckled. "You could join if you want." He then stated, but the both of them knew that Altaїr would never ever do it. Oh no, not when it was so cold! "Kadar is coming home soon for a few weeks. He broke a leg. I would like it if you won't destroy the castle during his stay." He was informed by his bodyguard and wondered how and why Malik thought that he needed to tell him this right now. Maybe he just wanted to change topics.

Altaїr grinned sheepishly. "Kadar is coming home?" Well, his favorite Al-Sayf brother was lying right beside him, crushing him to death with his strong, strong arms, but he liked Kadar too. He had always liked the fact that Kadar would look up to him at any cost, like an especially short cheerleader. "Well, well, well."

"Don’t even think about it." Malik laughed. "He has to study as long as he's here and cannot use any distractions from his studies!"

"Is he as hot as you?" Altaїr hummed. "I could think of a few distractions if he is."

Malik pinched him as hard as he could through the thick blanket. "I would never dare to call my little brother hot, but the women like him and _he_ likes the _women_. So, I'm afraid you cannot stand a chance against all those beautiful women in his life." Yes, Altaїr remembered that Kadar had always been quite the womanizer, even as a little boy.

"What a shame." Altaїr sighed and closed his eyes again for a moment.

"So?" Malik then asked.

"What?"

"Will you join me on my morning jogging round?" Malik asked and Altaїr opened his eyes only to look at him in disbelieve.

"Are you really trying to get me to go jogging with you?" Altaїr asked clearly confused. Surely, Malik knew him well enough by now, did he not? He was surely well aware, that he would never get Altaїr to exercise according to Malik's own standards! Altaїr had always been the more sluggish personality in their close knitted friendship back in the day. Even Desmond never managed to get him to exercise all that much. A few times Desmond managed to get him to go with him on a run, but he gave up after Altaїr had collapsed after just a few feet theatrically and demanded a cheeseburger and a milkshake to get back to his feet again.

"Well yes. I think it would be good for you if you would start to exercise more." Malik then grinned, though he gave his best to stop his mouth from doing that.

"Are you implying that I'm fat?" Altaїr pouted and blew up his cheeks, but only got a small slap to his head for this behavior.

"No I'm not, _your majesty_." He snickered. "But I think it would benefit you in case of danger. I could teach you a few things, like self-defense."

"I have _you_ to benefit me in case of danger, so I can eat all day and get fat like Jabba the Hutt." Though _exercising_ with Malik and learning a little bit from Malik sounded not all too bad, but surely Malik had other things in mind than he.

"Oh, our kingdom is doomed." Malik exhaled, just when there was a loud knock on the door to Altaїr's chambers, echoing through the various rooms. It was surely not his butler, for Malik would have already vanished from his side, if there was the possibility of being surprised by any of the staff – other than this the butlers and valets were not entering his chambers before seven o'clock! Malik sat up straight immediately, his spine stiff as a board, clearly alarmed. It was quite a sight watching Malik going from relaxed right into a state of alert. The knocking continued, clearly desperate for attention and so Malik jumped out of bed and hurried out of the bedroom. Altaїr on the other hand would not move if it were not necessary. It was way too cold in his rooms for moving out of the comforts of his blankets anyway. Instead of moving, he just looked after Malik, who was still wearing his sleeping pants and shirts after all.

He sighed and snuggled deeper into his little nest made of blankets and pillows. The kingdom could wait an hour or two, he was sure about that. Most people were surely still asleep anyway, so why should he be up? Nah, that would not benefit anyone! He tried not to listen to the sounds coming from the door to his rooms, they were too muffled anyway and he trusted that Malik could handle the situation by himself. All he could hear was the silent noise coming from the doors, a wave of rustling and humming without context or meaning and then he could hear the door being closed again. It took a moment in which nothing at all happened. He could not even hear Malik's footsteps coming back from the door for a while and grew just a tiny bit concerned because of this. However then, finally, Malik came back to the room and his sun-kissed complexion was just a bit more pale than usual. He was bringing bad news, Altaїr could sense that and for once he was not about to play the petulant child and crawl deeper under the blanket, but instead he sat up straight and ignored the cold wind coming from outside, telling the story of a soul, that finally went up to the heavens.

His grandmother was at peace. When Altaїr entered her chambers, after he got dressed in his new black sherwani, trousers and shoes, he felt how his legs were getting increasingly heavier with each step. He did not want to go in there, but a part of him pressured him to. He needed to see his grandmother one last time and when he entered her bedroom, it was as if she was just sleeping. Her chambermaid, Aisha, was sobbing softly in the background, but Altaїr had no eyes for her or really anyone else.

"I would like to be alone." Altaїr said with all the authority he could scoop up right now from the bottom of his broken heart. He felt terrible lost and he still did not understand the truth of the news Malik had brought to him only half an hour ago. He was sure Malik was just as sad and heartbroken as he was, but he could not stand being around anyone right now, let alone talk. He felt like the little boy that he was when his father had died and all he wanted to do was to curl up into a little ball under his bed and bawl his eyes out.

He did not move, until the room was empty except for him and his grandmother. The royal physician was the last to leave the room, murmuring words of sympathy, just as the staff did, as he entered. Aisha had apparently found his grandmother when she arrived this morning to prepare her chambers. Poor girl. Even Malik stayed away from the room, after Altaїr told him that he would not need him here and that he rather should make preparations for the arrival of his brother. Maybe it was unfair, but when the door was closed behind his back, he was relieved. Still, it took him a moment, until he found the strength to slowly stagger to his grandmother's bed and he almost expected her to open her eyes and smile again at him, just as she did when he came back home after seven long years.

She did not.

Not even, when he sat down on the mattress beside her. His eyes were burning and he hated it. Crying would not help anyone. Crying would not bring back his granny. Gently he brushed his fingers over her cheek, but still no reaction and almost immediately, he thought that she might have been poisoned. Maybe by Aisha or by someone else. Maybe he should go and question this girl about his grandmother's medication. Maybe he should ask the doctor? Maybe he should imprison all of them until they would say something! But when he balled his fists, ready to explode in anger over his granny's untimely death so soon after he came back home again, he could feel the caress of a soft, warm breeze on his cheek. The windows were all closed and he knew this was his granny's way of saying that everything was alright.

However, it was not.

It was not alright that she decided it was about time to let go. He needed her still and he was oh so very angry that she would leave him here all alone by himself. He had no one to talk to about his duty now any longer! No one who could tell him the things he needed to know to be a good ruler! He needed her! What should he do without her? How should he be a good king without her? How should he choose a queen without her? How should he manage to keep his true self a secret without her? He had wanted to tell her the truth! He had wanted to talk to her about his true feelings and his way of living and the things he had done, but now it was too late any maybe it was even for the better, but still!

"Your majesty" Altaїr almost exploded. He almost jumped right out of his skin.

"I said I wanted to be alone!" He growled with his teeth clenched so hard it was almost hurting him. His fists were shaking in anger. It was not Malik's voice that had shaken him out of this moment of mourning and quietude.

"Your majesty you are here for over an hour now." The voice spoke up again, uncaring for the monarch's temper or mourning. Of course not. The show must go on and he as the king was the star of the show. He could not allow himself just even an hour to mourn his grandmother. There were things to organize, things to take care of, things to say, things to do, _things_.

" _LEAVE ME ALONE!_ " Altaїr finally exploded anyway, when he jumped off the bed and finally turned around to face the man that had the audacity to talk to him right now in this oh so dire situation. Abbas Sofian did not even flinch when Altaїr's wrath hit him like this, therefore Altaїr's vision started to turn red immediately, as his eyes fell upon Abbas's ugly face. He almost lost control over his body, almost lunged at the man standing in the doorway of his grandmother's bedchamber. He had no right to even stand there! "Get out." Altaїr hissed. "Don’t you have any decency? Hasn’t your father taught you anything about decency and moral or did he give up after he learned that he got an ape for a son?" He knew it was dumb and that it was not even the most intelligent thing to come up with in this situation, but Abbas's look was worth it at least. He could see that Abbas wanted to reply with something cruel, with something, that he would break his own neck with, if he would say it – but unlike Altaїr, Abbas was older and possessed greater self-control in the eyes of the enemy.

"Your majesty, the imam is looking for you. He is waiting in the throne room for now. I think you are aware that he has a lot to discuss with you now in this situation." Abbas stated and Altaїr was almost certain that he recognized something like joy in his dark eyes. There was this flicker of something more, of something he was hiding in the back of his mind, something he was not allowed to show at any costs. He was _enjoying_ this. He found joy in his grandmother's death and Altaїr was not allowed to bash his head in because he was not showing it outright.

 _You are the king now! You can do whatever you want!_ This little flame of temper yelled, that normally ruled his whole being and was responsible for things like sleeping with Malik or getting tattoos all over his body. _You need to be careful now. He is dangerous_ , said the voice of reason behind all this and held back his loose mouth for once.

"I will go to him as soon as soon as I am _ready_." He growled, but when he looked past Abbas, he could see a few of the servants standing around quietly in the next room, looking horribly uncomfortable because of this outburst of their king.

He knew that Abbas did that on purpose. He knew he wanted that Altaїr made a fool of himself in front of the servants. Malik was nowhere to be seen and maybe it was better this way. He did not want him to hold his hand all the time. He could not remember his father being surrounded by _his_ Mr. Al-Sayf all the time. He needed to be strong now; he needed to be a leader his grandmother could be proud of! Yet he would rather wail and have a temper tantrum instead of doing really anything else. He did not. He just glanced at Abbas as if he was about to kill him and left the room. He did not stop, just left behind his granny's chambers as if it was a normal day and walked down the hallway. He ignored the servants he came across; he ignored the signs of mourning that were hung already. He did not want to hear anything or speak to anyone or see anything. He wanted to be alone.

His feet did not take him to the throne room because he could not speak to Al Mualim about his granny. He could not speak with him about her funeral or the celebration of her life. He could not do it. His heart was racing and pounding against his ribcage, when he walked on quicker, loosening the first button of his sherwani that suddenly was way too tight around his neck, when he almost ran down the main staircase of the castle. He did not even care for all the puzzled looks he got this way. He just wanted to vanish into thin air.

When he looked up the next time he was surrounded by cold stonewalls and the dim light of a narrow hallway. It was cold down here, so cold in fact, that he could see his breath in front of his face. Suddenly he had no clue how he had managed to get to this place, but he knew that this was the exact place where he wanted to be.

He was deep underneath the castle to where hardly anyone ever came, with exception of those who needed to. It was an eerie place to be and Altaїr knew all those ridiculous legends of ghosts in these halls. Behind the heavy doors, that lay ahead of him were no ghosts waiting for him, only the dead and the dead only rarely harmed anyone.

When he entered the crypt, everything was still as he remembered it to be. The candles were lit and the air was heavy. This was the only place in the castle without electrical light and this was exactly where he wanted to go. Deep underneath the castle, right in the stone structure of these ancient halls, laid King Aquilus the first and watched over this place and its people. If there were any ghosts at all, then it was his.

As a child, he had been afraid to come to this place, though it was tradition to pay their ancestors tribute every year on the day when King Aquilus had been crowned. He had not liked it here and he had never understood why the rest of his family was not lying down here but on the cemetery in the royal crypt. He still did not understand, but he began to. He only slowed down when he was positive that he was alone and when he could already see the sarcophagus of his ancestor in the middle of the hall. This hall had once been the great library of the castle, before Aquilus had ordered his servants to move the books to the new location. Legend had it, that Aquilus had already known about his upcoming death (well, that was hardly unusual, after all he had been ninety-two years back then) and decided to make this place his grave. The servants had found him sitting in his old chair right there, where now his sarcophagus stood.

The stone statue was all that was left of his ancestor now, lying peacefully on the stone top. Altaїr stopped when he reached the stone sarcophagus and looked down on the face that was engraved in the white stone on top of it. He could not even tell if his ancestor's face was at least a bit like his, but somehow he had the feeling that he would have liked this man. A thousand years lay between them and all he knew about this man was what legends and history books could tell him.

"I am very sorry for your loss." He almost laughed. Not because this sentence would be so funny, but because of desperation.

"It seems it doesn’t matter where I go I will never be alone." Altaїr stated with a deep sigh and leant against the cold stone of his ancestor's grave.

"No don’t worry; I will never leave you alone." Malik replied with a faint smirk, when he stepped into the light of the candles. Altaїr knew that he had been waiting right here, nearly invisible in his black clothes. A part of him wanted to lean against him, when Malik stepped closer and leant against the sarcophagus too, but he did not. Somehow, he felt as if this was not the right place and surely not the right time for something like this.

"Wow … I am glad to hear that." He could not find the strength to smile or grin or even smirk. He was still fueled with rage after Abbas found the audacity to walk right into his granny's chambers as if it meant nothing just because she was dead. _Especially_ because she was dead, it meant the world to Altaїr that Abbas had not enough respect to leave him alone in there. It did not matter how long he had stayed there. He could have stayed all day and it would not have justified this assault on privacy and this lack of respect for the dead monarch.

"I know, that’s why I say it. I know you can't live without me, your majesty." Malik tried again to cheer him up, to no avail.

"Oh, shut up." He did not want to be cheered up. He did not want to light up. He wanted to mourn and be sad. He wanted to dwell on these feelings and the loss he had just experienced. He wanted to curl up in a blanket on the floor next to the heater in his room and just be alone. "I should have expected this, shouldn’t I? I mean she was sick. She had always been sick. It shouldn’t have surprised me that much, after all her sickness was why she ordered me back already."

"The death of a loved one always comes as a surprise." Malik stated and his voice was soft as velvet when he did. "When my father passed away I was devastated too, though I should’ve seen it coming. My mother always said that it was no surprise that he died."

"What happened? Uncle Giovanni only told me he had a heart attack." Changing the topic from his own grief to Malik's was maybe not the nicest thing to do; but on the other hand, they were united in their grief. They were both grieving for his granny and for Malik's father.

"Yes. Well, I do not know exactly what has happened, for I was in school at the time. However, my mother told me that my father had worked so hard during that time and had been so stressed, that it really was just a matter of time. It seemed he had worked on something, but I do not know what. He had been the protector of your grandmother before he died, so I do not really know why he had been so stressed out all the time. I always thought that there must have been something else bothering him, but I never got the chance to understand it."

"Do you have a guess?" Altaїr then carefully asked, because he could understand that this was a sore topic. Of course he did.

"I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not." Malik murmured and then stared up at the dark stone ceiling. "It's hard to tell really. Sometimes it was hard to really grab what was on his mind. However, you knew him. You know how he was."

"Yes." In fact, he had known Faheem Al-Sayf better than he had known his own father. "What am I supposed to do now?" He then asked. "No one is left to guide me now. Well that is if you don’t have a few years' worth of experience as a king by chance."

"Well, I guess the one year of being King of the Squirrels does not count, right?" Malik smirked and gently nudged his shoulder. This was almost as good as having one of his strong arms wrapped around his shoulders.

"Sometimes I wished I would have a way of talking to Aquilus." Altaїr then silently admitted. "I would love to hear how he managed to cope with all those things. He never expected to be king, when he started his crusade against the enemy, until your ancestor tricked him into taking the crown - thanks for that by the way."

"Sadly there are not many documents telling about his life - or to be more precise about his personality. But I must admit that I would find it very thrilling too, to learn more about that time and his life." Malik hummed. "But, Altaїr, your granny-"

"Al Mualim wants to talk to me; I think I should better be going now." It was not very polite, after Malik clearly wanted to soothe him and maybe cheer him up a bit more, but Altaїr did not want to hear any of that. He knew exactly what Malik wanted to say anyway. Something along the lines of _your granny would be proud of you_ or _your granny was sure you would be a great king, do not worry about it._ The question remained though: What in the world made all those people think they would know what his granny thought or felt?

She had no reason to be proud of him. The last seven years she had only seen a petulant child poking his blank ass at the cameras of paparazzi. He had kicked everything his religion and country stood for, just as Malik said, and though he did not regret those years, and though he did not regret getting all those piercings and tattoos or dying his hair in all the colors of the rainbow, maybe he felt a bit ashamed and maybe it was about time to leave all this behind. It would not be easy though. How was he supposed to leave his former self behind, when he would be confronted with it again and again and again from now on? His enemies would gladly dig those photos and all those scandals up again whenever they pleased to do so or could benefit from it.

Malik did not stop him and he did not follow him either. There was no danger awaiting him behind the next corner, only darkness, silence and the cold air of the underground beneath the castle.

Al Mualim waited for him in the throne room still, when Altaїr arrived and it took a lot effort and inner strength not to hang his head low or raise his shoulders. He felt like a small child in the presence of Al Mualim again, ready to be scolded for not paying enough attention in class or dozing quite obviously while looking out the window.

His former teacher smiled at him gently, but with sadness in his dark eye (the god one), while the other, milkish white eye stared right into the nothingness of the world around them. Al Mualim opened his arms for him and though he would not get a hug, feeling the hands of his mentor resting on his shoulders was almost just as good as a fatherly hug. This man helped to raise him, no matter what he would say and no matter that he would not take credit for his upbringing (especially not for the last seven years of it), it was the truth.

"What do I do now?" Altaїr sighed, before he sat down on the small steps leading to the pedestal where his throne was standing. He rather not wanted to sit on the throne right now. "Only you are left to guide me, Rashid."

The smile of the old man turned more fondly immediately, but he did not sit down next to him or ruffle trough his hair, as he would have done when he would be still a child. "I will guide you, your majesty, as good as I can." The old man finally stated. Hearing the words _your majesty_ out of his mouth instead of _Prince Altaїr_ was weird. It was suddenly all so very different from what he used to hear from the people around him. Only two words that were different, when they approached him and yet it was a huge difference. Suddenly the words _Your Majesty_ and _My King_ did not equal _My Prince_ or _Altaїr_ any longer, as if he was a completely new person and as if those people did not know him any longer. Except for Malik. He liked it when Malik called him just Altaїr whenever they were alone. It was a small bit of reality that he was getting back this way, a bit more sanity.

"You are standing at the beginning of a long way, your Majesty." Rashid then said. "Your grandmother knew that you would become a great king, since the day you were born and so did your father. My King, I have watched you grow from a boy to a man in so short a time, it fills me with as much sadness as pride. You should not burden yourself with worry about your place in this world or if you will ever be able to fit your father's shoes."

"I didn’t know him well as a father. He was a king above all and that is exactly the same way my life is supposed to go." He would have children he would not be able to raise himself and which he would hardly ever see. He would envy all those people around him, who would be able to raise their kids and to have them around all the time. He would be travelling, attending important meetings with other important people who too were not able to see their kids as much as they loved to and to his kids he would be just a vague figure, only _the king_ , never their father. Well, maybe it was a bit too early to worry about such things.

"This is the life you were born into too, my king." Al Mualim reminded him - as if he would ever forget that fact. "Do you regret it?"

 _Yes_ , he thought. He would have never chosen this for himself, but it had never been his choice, right? "How could I regret the only life I've ever known?" Altaїr replied with a faint smirk.

"You'll find a way in time." Al Mualim then stated and Altaїr had no clue what that was even supposed to mean. "And then it is up to you what you are doing with your life."

It had been a long day. A very long day indeed and it would be another very long day. It was already midnight, when Altaїr's left foot sank into the hot water of his bathtub. The castle was silent by now, but far from being at peace. Normally Altaїr tried to stay away from water as best he could and normally he was not so very fond of taking baths after a very traumatizing _incident_ in his childhood, but right now, it was exactly what he needed. He would not be able to sleep now anyway, though he felt exhausted and tired.

He had spent the whole day talking to people, discussing the things that needed to be organized – the _how_ and _when_ the funeral should take place. Between all those discussions with all those important people and his advisors, he had done his first announcement to the public ever. Oh, he had felt incredible nervous, sitting in front of that camera behind the big ass office desk. It was not his first time in front of a camera (Ezio made sure it was not in the past), but it was something very different from just trolling around on the internet and now announcing the death of his beloved grandmother to his subjects. Two days ago, he had been introduced to the public at his granny's side and now she was dead. There were still so many things he had to do, so many ceremonies to attend and traditions to meet after his coronation and now he needed to do all this by himself. How was he supposed to do all this?

When Altaїr sank into the hot water and leant the back of his head against the rim of the bathtub, he was feeling himself relaxing just a bit, while the steam of the hot water was slowly fogging the mirror and the large window that was normally covered in ice-flowers this time of the year.

He could consider himself lucky that at least Leonardo and Ezio would stay a while and while his cousin liked to explore the kingdom and all the sights it had to offer (and all the pretty ladies), at least he had Leonardo to aid him with his advice. He would rather keep him here than letting him go again, but he had no choice, he guessed. He could not capture Leonardo to keep him as his advisor and he knew that he needed to learn how to stand on his own two feet.

 _King Aquilus the first had been all alone too_ , he thought. He had been an orphan; the only companion in his life his best friend who had been the intended king. However, he was not Aquilus and he was quite sure that Aquilus had been a whole different person than he was. He had not been as childish as he was surely. He had accepted his fate quickly, surely.

He could hear the door to his chambers fall into its lock and opened his eyes again, but then he relaxed once more. Surely, it was Malik coming back to the rooms. His room had its own door to the hallway, but Malik liked to use Altaїr's door and have a look around before going to bed. He did not mind. For a moment, he wondered if he should call for him and invite him into his tub, but then he let the thought slip again and sank deeper into the hot water. He should be more careful with this whole situation and if he would finally decide to be honest to himself he would knew, that he would be much rather alone right now. He did not need to be cuddled, not even by Malik. He had known his granny would die, yet he felt sad and lost and he could not remember if he had felt like this when his father died. Perhaps. He felt this way when Giovanni Auditore came to him to tell him about the fate of Mr. Al-Sayf.

Maybe he should just run off and let the Sofians do what they wanted, but he guessed he had a duty now, right? His ancestors had fought for this country, his granny had fought her illness so long and hard so he would be able to take his place. No, he could not go. He needed to try his best to make them proud, right? He-

Suddenly he was pushed down. Water was filling his nose and his mouth immediately, when he reflexively gasped for breath. He started to flail like a fish, to swing his limbs like a mad man in a desperate attempt of getting away, but it did not work. Whomever it was pushing him down, was much stronger than he was and their grip as strong as iron. He could not see their face because of the bubbles in front of his own face and suddenly he felt as if he water was scolding his skin. His vision started to blur, as he was still kicking and punching and grabbing into the air to get his attacker off of him.

He could feel how his limbs got tired and heavy and he could not bring himself to fight back any longer. What was it good for anyway? Maybe he should just let it happen. Maybe he should just let this person kill him. Well, he surely was the shortest-lived ruler this kingdom ever had. Two days. He managed to rule this country for two days before he tragically drowned in his bathtub, that was how he would be remembered, but at least he did not manage to ruin this kingdom within two days. He guessed that was something he could be proud of indeed, right?

Black spots were slowly filling his field of vision and he prepared for the embrace of death after his struggle finally ebbed off. It seemed to him as if it had been years of him struggling against death in this bathtub and maybe it was years. He had fought against death all his life, after all. Maybe now it was about time to finally give in and let death take him.

●●●●●●●●●●

_Umar Ibn-La'Ahad was hardly ever nervous and when he was, he was mostly hanging with his head over a toilet. The nervous stomach ran in the family, at least that was what his father once told him. He had told him tales about his grandfather and … Oh, well, they were not very appetizing to even think about and now was clearly not the right moment to do that. He was nervous enough already even without those infamous tales about his grandfather and up until now he was quite proud of himself, that he had not yet puked._

_Still he noticed, out of the corner of his eye, how his friend Faheem stood a few feet away from him with a bucket he stole from the maids. Faheem Al-Sayf was always prepared for the worst and since they knew each other since the time they were both just toddlers, Faheem knew his best friend Umar well enough to always come to his aid prepared with a bucket._

_"Why does it take so long?" Umar moaned beginning yet another round of pacing through the hallway. It was not very kingly to pace back and forth on any hallway at all, but he could not stop his own feet from doing exactly that. "Is it normal that it takes so long?" He then turned to his friend and noticed how Faheem just managed to stop smirking and changed his face as fast as he could into a most serious expression. Umar knew already that it was indeed normal; after all, he had been there when Faheem's son had been born. Malik was three years old now and quite the little rascal. He had been since he was born, to be more precise._

_Malik was a strong willed little boy and always tried to beat his head against a brick wall. He was stubborn and fierce and always fought for what he wanted desperately as if his life depended on it and mostly successfully. Malik was strong and Umar was positive that he would grow up to be a strong (especially headstrong) individual. He would be just like his father when he was an adult and he could only hope that he would be a worthy protector for his own child._

_"Yes, my king, it is normal that it takes so long." Faheem said and obviously had a hard time not to laugh or at least snicker. "Babies hardly ever slip right out of their mothers." Umar made a face. Maud forbade him to witness the birth and for a Syrian man it was quite unseemly to be with his wife anyway when she was giving birth – and it was especially unseemly for a Syrian king._

_Still he wanted to be there and to hold her hand in this dire situation. He wanted nothing more than this. The pregnancy had not been easy on Maud up until now. She was frail and sickish since he knew her, but he would have never thought that she would be that weak during the pregnancy. Since she had been sixth months pregnant, she had been prohibited from running around the castle and since she had been seventh months pregnant, she had been bedridden. Maud was an active woman and she absolutely hated it not being able to run around and do all the things she liked to do. Umar was worried, but not at all had he thought that there was any real danger. The best physicians were with her and though he would have much rather brought her to the hospital, it was tradition for the queens of this family to give birth at home and Maud insisted on this tradition, plus it had happened too fast to transport her anyway._

_His son had wanted to be born desperately, nearly twelve hours ago and yet he suddenly seemed to not want to make haste any longer._

_"Don’t worry, everything is going to be okay." Faheem smiled and gently nudged his shoulder, when he closed the distance between him and his friend. Faheem was at his side for twelve hours now and he did not seem tired at all. Umar on the other hand was exhausted and agitated and the feeling was not about to vanish, not even when the doors to his chambers were finally opened by a very tired looking nurse. She was pale and obviously exhausted and she did not look like she did when Malik had been born three years ago. Back then, the nurse had been exited, but Malik had been fast. It had been as if Malik could not wait to be born and to show everyone who he was._

_Yet, suddenly Umar felt a lump in his throat and this was not just, because he knew that his child had been born now. There was something else, lingering in the air like a disease, he could already feel it. "Your majesty." The nurse murmured, gesturing towards the bedroom door and Umar slowly followed her gesture and stepped in, followed quickly by Faheem who finally put down the bucket he liked to mock him with._

_Never in his life had it been harder to bridge the distance between him and his wife and never in his life had his feet felt heavier. Suddenly he just wanted to turn around and run, but he did not. Instead, he stepped into the bedroom and could smell the blood. He did not ask Faheem if this was normal, because his mouth was just a thin line and he could not force himself to open his mouth to speak again. Maud was lying in their bed, pale as a ghost and suddenly Umar knew that there was something terribly wrong. The physicians were not at all relaxed, while they were gathering around a small table. He knew that they were taking care of his son without question, for their frantic behavior and their whispered conversation. Something was wrong with his son. Something was wrong with his wife._

_And when Umar sat down on the edge of the bed next to his wife and saw how Maud opened her bright blue eyes slowly, he knew that this was farewell. He could see how much effort it took her to breathe or to just keep her now fogged eyes open. She had always had a weak heart and yet her heart was so big and filled with love for him and their child, that Umar had always expected it to keep beating no matter the cost. It seemed he expected too much. He should have known. His mother had warned him, the physicians had warned him. Even Maud had warned him and now he was crushed, because he had not listened and rather stuck with his fantasy of having a bunch of children with this woman to fill the old castle with the sound of laughter and little feet running around. For generations his family had been struck by tragedy, but somehow Umar had always thought his generation would be different._

_Gently he brushed his thumb over her cheek. She was too weak to speak and he did not know what he wanted to say anyway. He could not think of anything. "Altaїr" She then whispered. "That’s his name. Take good care of him."_

●●●●●●●●●●

Malik had been three years old when he had first seen Altaїr - a newborn, too weak to turn his head or do more than flailing like a fish on the ground of the Sahara and after all those years he could still remember this moment. Maybe that was because he was a very sentimental person (a trait he apparently inherited from his father, as his very serious mother always liked to emphasize), but he remembered feeling something like the need to protect this little, ugly, pink thing, which his father introduced to him as being Altaїr. Since then this feeling, this need to protect this ugly, pink lump that was Altaїr, had only increased. Even now, he thought of it and while Malik was still in the kitchen with his mother, suddenly he felt as if he was being needed.

"Is everything alright?" His mother asked with furrowed brows, sipping her coffee. She had much to do for the next few days. The funeral would be one big event again and she needed to take care of the important stuff - the food. Her employees were somewhere around preparing stuff, but Malik did not really care. The whole day had been one great disaster and he just wanted to go to sleep, if he was honest. Instead, he needed to organize a few things himself. Well, he could leave it to other people, but he needed the distraction so he would not drown in his own feelings of loss and sadness. The late queen grandmother had been like a granny to him. He had always liked being around this woman and he had always profited greatly from her insane wisdom. Now she was gone and Malik needed to think of a way that he could cheer Altaїr up with and how he should manage to get him on the right path again, so he would not resign.

"Yes." Malik sighed but got up anyway. "I just need … I need to have a look if everything is alright." With Altaїr. He did not need to say this for his mother to understand it. She just smiled and let him go and after Malik had left the kitchen, he was already jogging up the stairs and then running down the corridor. He did not know why, but his whole body was screaming for him to run and make haste, so he did. His instincts had never betrayed him before.

He opened the door to Altaїr's chambers without thinking too much of it and he did not care if he would startle him (perhaps surprise him right in the middle of a tête-a-tête with Leonardo?), when he barged into the room. No Altaїr here, but he could hear noise from the bathroom, the sound of water splashing violently on the marble floor and he ran without thinking twice.

Something was terribly wrong, he could sense it and when he barged into the room, there was a man leaning over the bathtub pushing down–

Malik acted without thinking. He had no weapon with him, not even his knife! He was never wearing his weapons within the castle and now he had only his bare hands. He could not surprise the assassin, for his entry had been too loud, but he was quick enough (and the assassin surprised enough) so that he could jump him anyway, before the man could grab the knife he was wearing on his belt.

Before the man could do something about it, Malik had already grabbed him and slammed his head as hard as he could against the figure on top of the bathtub. There was a loud crack, but since the arm of the figure broke off and fell into the water, he did not even know if the loud cracking sound had been the skull of the man being broken. At least the impact caused the assassin to black out and slump to the ground. Malik had no time to ensure that he was really unconscious and he did not care either. It was not important if the man was unconscious or maybe even dead. All he now cared for was Altaїr's lifeless body in the water.


	8. Water under the bridge

_Malik Al-Sayf was quite used to his best friend's ideas by now, but that did not mean that he always liked to play along. The prince only rarely was allowed to leave the castle and normally he did so only in the company of his own or Malik's father. Sometimes Malik felt sorry for the young prince for the life he was forced to live. His father, the king, rarely bothered to spend time with his only child and though Malik's father often said that the king was just a very busy man, Malik thought that it was just mean and nothing else. He liked that his own father often tried to fill in the gap the king left in his young son's life, but often he was jealous too, after all his own father was a busy man too and him and Kadar had not much opportunity to spend time with him, which was only shortened additionally when his father needed to spend time with Altaїr instead._

_Maybe it was because he felt sorry for Altaїr from time to time, that he so often agreed to help him with his mainly stupid little plans and ideas. It was not easy to stop Altaїr from putting his stupid ideas into practice anyway, so Malik figured at one point, that it would be much safer for the prince if he would join him on his little adventures and try to keep him from harm._

_Today was such a day on which he decided to join the future king on his little adventure outside the quite safe confinements of the castle. It was spring and the air already hot and a bit humid and clearly foreshadowing the hot summer they were about to get this year, when they decided to venture about the castle grounds and wandered off to the exceptional old part of the castle. Normally not many people came to this rather abandoned part of the old fortress, but Malik liked it here. He loved the old tower that stood a little far off, a reminder of the darker past of his fortress and of the times when it had been but a fortress against enemy invasion. However the doors were blocked by now and Malik never understood what the tower had been used for. His father once told him that the tower had been used to intimidate enemies, but Malik never understood how that was even possible, standing so close by the edge of the cliffs. Well, maybe he would understand one day._

_"Granny said there are eagles nesting up in the tower!" Altaїr exclaimed when he ran towards the stone building. The prince was eight years old by now and he was still quite clumsy, so Malik was already alarmed that he could stumble and break something. Malik was normally not so very fearful that someone could hurt themselves, but he was a bit more nervous when it concerned Altaїr. The king might not be the best father, as Malik thought, but he was furious when his son was hurt. Malik thought that this was weird and he knew that Altaїr was often sad because he thought that his father did not love him. Sometimes Malik even thought that Altaїr provoked getting hurt, because those were the only times his father seemed to show his love for him at all. He rarely talked to Altaїr about his relationship with his father, but he had seen firsthand how the king could react if his son was injured, after the incident last year. They had been playing outside too back then. It had been just him, Altaїr and his baby brother, when the man approached them and suddenly ripped a knife from his belt to stab the prince._

_"Yes, Baba said this too!" Malik then replied grinning, when he ran after him and stopped at the foot of the tower. Altaїr tried his best to reach the door handle, but no matter how hard he jolted the doorknobs, it had no effect. Malik knew that the doors were locked securely, but that did not stop Altaїr from trying. He just watched as the young prince finally gave up and turned to look around._

_"What are you doing?" Malik called, when he noticed how Altaїr vanished into the bushes around the tower._

_"I want to see the eagles!" He heard the young prince yell, but even before Altaїr could explain himself further there was a loud screech and Malik's heart stopped beating for a moment. Then a loud splash. Malik started running immediately into the direction where Altaїr had vanished into thin air just a second ago._

_"Malik! Help!" He could hear the boy but did not see him. All he could hear was the repeated splashing sound of water somewhere nearby and Malik just followed the sound, while he could already feel the sensation of being doused with cold water. He ran so fast he almost did not see the hole in the ground and almost fell right into it._

_"What the-" Malik began, but crouched down at the edge of the hole to look down into the thick darkness. It was a well, apparently, and down there it was almost pitch black, but he could hear the sound of splashing water echoing from the stones of the well and his first thought was, that Altaїr could not swim._

_He could barely see Altaїr, but finally he made out the pale face of the prince and his white t-shirt, floating in the water, flailing his limbs like mad in a pity attempt of keeping his head above water. Malik started to look around frantically and gladly he spotted a piece of an old rope that had apparently broken a while ago lying nearby, so he ran to grab it, tied one end to a large stick he found near the well and dropped the rest of the rope down. It was not quite long enough, but as Altaїr stretched he could reach the end of the rope just enough to have something to hold onto. Malik however was not strong enough to pull him up, yet he tried anyway. Altaїr clung to the rope for dear life when Malik started to pull, but Altaїr was heavier than he would have thought and then the rope broke and Altaїr fell back into the water with a loud splash._

_Malik leant over the hole again and panicked he searched for the pale face in the water again. It took a moment, but then Altaїr was back, coughing and wheezing, before he managed to grab a loose stone so he would be able to support himself at least enough to not sink again. "Malik…" Now his voice was fearful and thin and trembling._

_"Hold on!" Malik called out for him, though_ holding on _was out of question now anyway for the young monarch, was it not? "I got this! Just … Just hang on! I go to find someone who can help!" Malik then yelled before he jumped to his feet again. He could see Altaїr's fearful eyes glistening in the darkness and he knew that he was terrified. Altaїr had never been very fond of water, but now Malik could not stay with his best friend to soothe his mind. He needed to act and quickly too!_

_"No!" Altaїr whimpered from deep down inside the well. "Don’t leave me alone, Malik!" It was not easy leaving his best friend behind like this anyway, but hearing how terrified he really was only made it worse for Malik. Altaїr's ego was normally bigger than his entire body, so seeing him so distressed and panicked was a rare sight._

_"I must go and find someone, Altaїr! I can't help you out of there! I'll be back in no time, I promise!"_

_There was one thing Malik had learned up until this point of his very young life: Never make promises you cannot fulfill. That was what Malik's father always used to say and the promise he had now given was maybe the biggest Malik would ever give. While Altaїr kept calling after him, Malik already ran as if it was_ his _life that was at risk and maybe it was, after all it was the crown prince of Masyaf being at risk of drowning right now and not some unimportant peasant boy._

_Malik was already out of breath when he reached the courtyard. It was his father he first saw when he stumbled into the yard. Of all people his father! Malik already knew that his bum would never be the same after today, but the scolding he would get afterwards could indeed wait. His little brother was accompanying their father, using the moment of peace that he now had with him. Malik felt almost sorry that he needed to interrupt and again because of Altaїr, still he ran for his father and called for help without thinking twice. All he could think of was Altaїr, drowning in a well if they would not be fast enough._

●●●●●●●●●

His head hurt. Badly. Very badly. "If this is death, I demand a refund." Altaїr moaned, after he finally managed to open his eyes again. If this was in fact death, then death was either not so very creative or death thought it would be easier for him to adjust if it would replicate his bedroom. He recognized the ceiling immediately.

"I'm afraid you are not dead yet, amico mio." The velvet smooth voice of Leonardo sounded from his side and when Altaїr tried to turn his head to have a look at him, he immediately regretted this decision. His headache was nearly killing him, but Leonardo smiled fondly at him. He was sitting right next to him on a comfortable looking chair. Behind Leonardo Altaїr could see the doors to his balcony. It was still dark outside, but Altair had no clue how long he had been out of it.

"What a shame…" Altaїr sighed. "What happened?"

"You were attacked." Leonardo sighed. "Can you remember anything?"

He only vaguely remembered sitting in the bathtub and suddenly being pushed down by firm, strong hands and how water had filled his lungs - his head. "No." He moaned and grabbed for his head, but his limbs felt heavy and weak and he would rather close his eyes again. There was something he could remember and he did not like it. He had fought against his attacker and then he had not. He had given up. He had been ready to be killed. That came more as a shock to him, than the attack itself.

Leonardo tucked on the blanket and pulled it up a bit more. "You can consider yourself a lucky man, having a bodyguard such as Malik. If he wouldn’t have been there you would be dead indeed now." Leonardo then sighed. "He came at the right moment."

"Where is he?" Altaїr murmured and closed his eyes for just a second, so the room would stop spinning around him. He could imagine that Malik had not spared his attacker from his wrath after he made sure that Altaїr was at least somewhat alive, but his imagination did not work well enough again for now to really think about what Malik had done or could have done.

"He is taking care of your attacker. But I believe he will be back soon." _Taking care_ of his attacker sounded a lot like in a mafia movie or something along those lines. _Taking care_ of something or someone normally meant that bones were about to break and skulls about to crack. Of course, he would not shed a tear for someone who wanted to kill him, but he wanted to know who the man was and who had sent him. "He was furious." Leonardo added with a small huff of breath. "Came running for me immediately to check if everything is alright with you. What did you even tell him about me?"

"Nothing." He sighed. "That you're a painter mainly. But Malik likes to be informed about absolutely everything, so I bet he investigated your background by himself." And thus found out that Leonardo was a genius not only as an artist, but as a scientist too. Surely he had been impressed. "Maybe that’s why he was soooo jealous when you arrived." However he did not really feel like laughing. He wanted to go and see the man who had tried to kill him after this horrible day. Just one week. It had taken his enemies _one week_ until they could not hold back their hatred for him any longer. Wow. "How did he even manage to sneak into my room? How did he even manage to get past Rauf at the gate?"

When he looked at Leonardo again the blonde Italian casted his eyes down, clearly uncomfortable with this question.

"He was one of the guards." The deep rumbling voice of Malik suddenly sounded from the bedroom door, though he sounded a little bit hoarse, if Altaїr was not mistaken by his current state of mushiness. Malik looked exhausted and strained, when he carefully came forward. "First I thought he was just dressed like one of our guards, but then I remembered him. His name is Haras."

Haras. The name burned itself into Altaїr's brain, when he turned over in his bed and closed his eyes once more. He did not want to talk or to think. One of his guards had tried to murder him, had betrayed him. Who could he trust now anyway?

●●●●●●●●●

Haras. First Malik had not recognized him. He had been too busy with dragging Altaїr's lifeless body out of the steaming hot water. Suddenly Altaїr's body had been just as light as a feather and Malik would have laughed about this impression, if the situation would not be so very serious. Before he could have done anything else, he carefully laid the body of the king onto the cold stone floor and only focused on getting him to breathe again and on getting the water out of his lungs.

Now, looking back on those events, he was glad that no one had been around to see the frantic way he had performed the CPR for his lack of calmness he had showed in this very moment. He had learned to keep his calm no matter what, but when he had been confronted with a pale and slightly blue king, his cool had flown right out of the window. He could still feel Altaїr's wet skin under his fingertips, hot from the water. And as the king finally threw up the water onto the stone ground and opened his eyes at least for a second before falling unconscious again, Malik had nearly cried in relief. Now, when he slowly walked down the narrow hallway, his black sherwani wet from pressing the king's body to his own, he would state that this rush of emotions came not from his liking for Altaїr as a person, but for the fear for his resume. He could not afford having failed to protect his king after one week! He would never get a job as a bodyguard again and what good were his years of training then?

He could not risk losing his face like this and that was the main reason why Altaїr was not allowed to die while he was on duty. His ancestors would turn over in their graves and cause an earthquake if he would fail so gloriously!

He had asked Rauf to stay on guard in front of Altaїr's chambers for now, after Malik got Leonardo to look after the monarch. Of course he had looked into this guy a bit more after Altaїr first talked about him and though a part of him still did not like him, he trusted him enough to let Altaїr in his care, after he brought the king to his bed.

He remembered Haras from his childhood. When Malik had been a child still, Haras had been a guard in training. His father had liked him, but he had also said back then that Haras was easy suggestible and that this was a trait that was not good to have for a royal guard. Malik forgot about him and he had only rarely seen Haras since then. Rauf on the other hand had been devastated when he had seen Haras being dragged out of the chambers by two of the guards that Malik had called for help. Apparently Rauf had known Haras better than Malik did, apparently they had been even something like friends. Still Malik trusted Rauf enough to leave him at Altaїr's door and there were more than enough other guards roaming around the halls now anyway. The whole castle was in turmoil by now, because naturally the news had spread around the castle like wildfire. Malik could only hope that the news would not reach the media.

"Is it true?" A voice thick with an Italian accent bellowed through the narrow hallway and Malik stopped only shortly to have a look at the man striding towards him with long legs. Ezio still seemed not to have adapted to the cold of Masyaf, judging by the many clothes he was wearing to keep himself warm.

Malik did not bow in front of him; he just nodded to greet the Italian cousin of the king. "I assume that you mean the failed assassination of the king." Malik concluded and gestured towards the end of the hallway. He did not want to stop and ponder. He wanted to talk to Haras and then go back to Altaїr. He was not even sure if he could concentrate of talking to Haras or if he even wanted to talk to this man, but it was his duty to confront him before the authorities would take him into custody.

"Yes, that is exactly what I mean!" Ezio replied furiously. Until now Malik had not seen much of the man, but he knew that he was no idiot, though he behaved like one from time to time as it seemed. But no matter his sometimes unruly behavior, he clearly was a man that cared deeply for his family and friends, at least after all he had heard from Altaїr about his cousin. "Where is the bastard? And where were you when it happened? Aren't you supposed to keep him safe?"

The words cut like a sword, though Malik did not like to admit this. "I am on my way to talk to him. I hope he recovered enough by now so I can get a few answers out of him."

"Answers? Why even bother talking to that _figlio di un cane_? You should kill him right away for what he has done!" Ezio growled loudly and clearly his Italian temper got the better of him from time to time - _now_ would be such a time.

"Signore Auditore, I don’t know how things are handled in Italy, but I am quite certain that even in Italy criminals deserve a fair trial in the court of law and here in Masyaf we do not maintain a lynch law. Luckily the king is still alive and right now Signore da Vinci is watching over him. I believe I am not wrong to assume that Signore da Vinci has once studied medicine?"

Ezio smirked, but the trace of this smirk quickly vanished again. Now was not the time for something like this. "That is indeed correct. He stopped because he was bored." Still he would suffice for now, Malik thought, though of course he had already called for a physician and he was sure that one would arrive soon. He would rather not even think of the possibility that Altaїr could have brain damage after this incident. What if the king would be forever impaired just because he had not been there? What if he would not be fit to rule any longer? Would the Sofians take over? Surely, but what would they do with Altaїr?

He could feel his guts clench and twist even thinking about the sole possibility of seeing Altaїr lying drooling in a hospital bed, not able to even go to the toilet or eat all by himself for the rest of his life. Sadly his imagination had always been one vivid motherfucker who liked to torture him with images like this. Maybe that was why he needed to get out of that room. He could not stand staying there and then hearing the doctor say those things. No matter the seven years that he had not seen Altaїr, he was still his friend and this made his recent failure all the more worse!

"If you would excuse me now, Signore Auditore, I need to talk to the culprit now." He half expected Ezio to demand to come with him, but he did not. Weird, but as he turned around he noticed how Ezio already pulled his phone out of his pockets. He did not care for him or for what he was about to do with his phone, instead Malik strode forwards and soon vanished inside the room Haras was held captive in.

●●●●●●●●●

The newspapers were full of the news about the assault on the king, when the next morning hit the kingdom, but Malik, after getting the papers from the butler, retreated to Altaїr's bedroom, without looking into those ridiculous stories. He had watched over Altaїr the whole night, after he came back from Haras. The physicians were sure that the king would be okay, after Leonardo had already talked to him and that there was no apparent brain damage or subsequent damage, but still Malik was worried. Altaїr would not leave his bed today, that was for sure and if he wanted to work, he would work from here. Yet, when Malik entered the room and found the king wide awake, he was positive that this would be much harder to achieve than he first thought.

"I think you were right." Altaїr suddenly spoke up when his amber eyes met Malik's. The king was still lying on his side just like he had when Malik left him to get the newspapers, one hand resting on his hips and Malik could not help but notice the delicious curve of his waist when he was lying like this. He wanted to lie down with him again, to pull him close and make sure that he was okay.

"Are you sure you are alright?" Malik answered with a faint smirk, before he sat down on the chair next to the bed again. He had not slept at all during the night, but he did not care. He felt exhausted and tired, but of course now was not the right moment to rest. The king just made a face because of that comment. "What do you mean? You know, my king, I am right most of the time, just give me a little example of my current wisdom."

Altaїr snorted. "I think you were right that I should learn a thing or two about self defense from you and that I should start exercising with you." Altaїr then replied. He was quite well behaved today, but Malik was sure that this was only because of the shock he still had and because he was still weak, otherwise the boy would behave differently.

"We'll start as soon as you are ready, your majesty." Malik smiled and leant back in his chair, enjoying this little victory. Only shortly he glanced down at the newspaper. On the front page was a photo of the young king after his coronation and the headline titled as _Failed Assassination of the king - Attacker in police custody_ , which already foretold everything the report had to offer. The headline of another newspaper titled as _King vs. water - trial and error, the story of an assassin_ , which was at least a tiny bit funny - for outsiders.

He thought it would be best if Altaїr would not read those. "You look like shit." Altaїr smirked and he himself was blinking quite slowly already again, as if he was about to fall asleep again. He very probably was. "You are tired, aren't you?"

Malik huffed and dragged his hand over his sleep deprived face. Kadar would arrive in a few hours, after he had left this place only a week ago. He was glad seeing his brother so soon again, but he knew that Kadar still had a lot to learn before he would be able to work as a bodyguard, thus he should concentrate on learning. His mother would spoil him rotten again, he could already see that happening, after all Kadar was her _baby_ and everytime he had been hurt, he had been treated like he was still three years old. "Yes." He sighed and wearily smiled at him again. He could sense that Altaїr wanted to invite him into his bed and Malik was tempted to not refuse this invitation. That was exactly why he stood up again and walked a few steps through the room. "It was a long night and a very long day." Malik then added slowly.

"What did Haras say?" Altaїr murmured. They had not talked about Haras all too much, after Malik arrived back at the chambers, for the most part because of the physicians that had looked at the king and because of Leonardo.

Malik stopped at the doors to the balcony and looked outside. It was still very early in the day and the sun was only slowly moving higher above the sky. Right now the sky was of a milkish pink and blue with streaks of orange. It was quite pretty, but he could already sense that snow would soon start to fall again. The whole castle was frosted like a beautiful birthday cake already. Suddenly he did not know if he should tell Altaїr what had happened, but then he could hear the blankets rustle and saw in the reflection of the door how Altaїr sat up, his eyes resting on Malik.

"Well" He slowly began and turned around to face the monarch again.

●●●●●●●●●

Haras was tied to a chair, when Malik entered the room, flanked by two of the royal guards. They kept their weapons secured to their hips, for Haras seemed not to be a threat right now. He still looked a bit groggy, but he was awake at least and his eyes were staring dizzily and dull into the nothingness. He did not look up at Malik, when he stepped closer and sent the guards outside. He would be able to keep Haras under control by himself, if it would be necessary, though he doubted that he would manage to free himself.

The guards left him without questioning his decision; after all he was the royal protector and thus was above them. Malik waited until the door was closed, before he leant with the back against it. Better keeping his distance to Haras, otherwise he would injure him, that was for sure. "Haras." Malik began slowly and he tried his best to keep his scorn out of his voice as best as he could.

"I don’t talk to people like you." Haras hissed, his voice dripping with disgust and still did not look at him, but rather stared at the ground right in front of Malik's left shoe. "Every word from you is like poison, tainting my soul and thus prohibiting me from ever entering paradise." Haras was one of those men who were taking the gospel quite seriously and men like him were one of the reasons why Malik was so careful when it came to his liking for men.

"I'm afraid that I do not understand." Malik replied dryly and crossed his arms. "But I don’t care either what you are thinking about me. You tried to murder the king and I demand answers. You are aware of the fact that the police will be here soon to arrest you, right? I don’t think they will be very gentle with a man who tried to kill the king. You will soon be dead for this crime and though it won't make a difference if you talk or not, maybe it will help your soul entering paradise if you would confess why you betrayed the crown."

Haras was silent and judging by the thin line that was his lips and the strained look of his jaw he did his best to keep his silence.

"Did someone hire you to do that?"

"I am not venally!" Haras spat and finally he looked at Malik with fury in his dark eyes. Haras's dark beard only added to the intimidating feeling his dark scowl gave novices, but it had no effect on Malik. There was still blood on Haras's face, from the heavy head wound Malik caused. Well, the doctors would take care of this as soon as Haras would be in police custody he guessed. "No one needs to tell me or to bribe me to see when a man is vile like our king is! He will ruin this kingdom with his evil and bilious ways! He was tainted by the western world and now our king has forgotten the ways of our kingdom and the values of our religion! He has turned his back to Allah and Allah will punish him for his traitory and crimes!"

He had heard something like this before. But still, every time he needed to hear stuff like this again, it made his stomach turn. Haras's moral and values were still of the middle ages and men like he would always stay in the way of progress. Men like Haras were those joining a terroristic group to force their believes on other people.

"Is that why you wanted to kill him? Because you thought he is a heretic?" He knew that there was no way of discussing this with Haras on a sensible way, but he knew that he needed to try at least. He needed to understand what caused Haras to snap and why he did it now and not earlier.

"He is not only a heretic! He is a sodomite! He is an abomination against nature and against our god! No good will come from having him as our king! Now that the queen grandmother is dead I was doing our kingdom a favor in killing him! The royal family is cursed and everybody knows that! From Altaїr will come nothing good! His loins are venomed and every descendant he will have will mean the doom of our kingdom! It is time for a new beginning, for a rebirth of this kingdom and the Sofians are the right men to do this!"

 _A new beginning_ \- that was what Haras had wanted. A rebirth and maybe he caused exactly that with his deed. Altaїr was not the same he was before after the failed assassination for sure, that Malik could see. He was more careful and more suspicious of his surroundings. "Did you really tell him what Haras said?" His brother looked at him with big blue eyes and Malik sighed, looking at his watch. He had a little more time until he would go to Altaїr again. It was a gloomy day and the snow was trying to smother the kingdom underneath a blanket of white. Not ideal for a funeral, but then again the skies looked just how most people today felt. Kadar sat on his bed, his broken leg covered by an ugly cast and his notebook on his lap. Malik hardly ever saw his brother without the thing. Maybe Kadar would be better off as a tech guy than as a bodyguard, but then again he should probably not try to underestimate his younger sibling. He knew that Kadar was a skilled fighter if he wanted to - sadly Kadar rarely wanted to.

"Of course I did, he is the king."

"He is Altaїr." Kadar informed not very helpful.

"And Altaїr is the king."

"But he is your best friend."

"He _was_ my best friend. Now he is my king." Kadar sighed and again rolled his eyes, until Malik hit him with a pillow. He hated it when Kadar rolled his eyes. "If my king asks me what the person said that wanted to murder him about the reasons why he wanted to murder him, then it is my duty to tell him, no matter how ugly the details are. The king is the head of justice and though the judges in court will deliver the judgment over Haras, Altaїr could still pardon him, but to make this decision he needs to know the details Haras had told me. Other than this he deserves the truth."

Masyaf had still the death penalty, but it was rarely ever executed, mostly because the king normally pardoned the convict and changed the punishment to life in prison instead of death. That was what the people of this kingdom expected from their king and it had become something like a tradition by now, but hardly ever one of the convicts had been someone who wanted to kill the king. Now it was on Altaїr to decide.

"So, is it true?" Kadar then murmured.

"Is what true?"

"Is he a sodomite?"

"What?"

"I mean is he really gay? I heard rumors in school, you know? People said that he was secretly gay and used those women only as an alibi." Kadar whispered as if he was afraid that someone could maybe be eavesdropping on them.

"You have too much imagination. In fact the king is already looking for a queen." Malik replied. He never talked to his brother about his sexuality of course, after all this was no light topic and Kadar was yet very suggestible. He was not ready for news like those and since Malik better kept the truth hidden anyway there was no use in telling Kadar. It would only make things very difficult.

"Well that does not mean he cannot be gay, right?" Kadar moaned.

"He is not gay, Kadar."

"Then why has Haras said it?"

"Because of stupid rumors like those you heard from your classmates! Because he is a weak little maggot believing things the Sofians told him! That’s why." Malik was furious and he did not even know why, maybe he was just agitated because of the importance of this day.

"So you think the Sofians made him do that?"

"Who else?" Malik then sighed. "I need to go now. Are you sure you don’t want to come along?"

"Yes … I go and see if I can help mother in the kitchen. I can work while sitting down." That was maybe the most intelligent and most reasonable thing his little brother had ever said.

●●●●●●●●●

"My king, are you sure you are alright?" Leonardo asked and a part of Altaїr wondered why Leonardo thought that he could not be well. Maybe it was because he was lying on the ground next to the balcony doors curled up in a bunch of blankets in a small nest of pillows, his old (very old) teddy (namely _General MacGuffin_ ) in his arms.

"Why shouldn’t I?" Altaїr mumbled but only pulled the blanket a bit higher. He didn’t want to get up or do something at all. He just wanted to lay here and doze with his teddy.

"Well…" Leonardo smirked and crouched down beside him, before he brushed his fingers over Altaїr's cheek. "I just wanted to show you your portrait. I've left it in the throne room. Don’t you want to see it?" _No_ , he wanted to say. No, he just wanted to stay here where it was nice and warm and where nothing could harm him as long as he had his teddy. A few days had passed since the attack on him and though he had recovered by now, today he felt incredibly weak all of the sudden. Maybe he had been poisoned. Well, he would not be really surprised.

His granny's funeral had been one hellish event and he was glad that it was over though the funeral feast was still to endure. Tomorrow Leonardo and Ezio would leave again, though Altaїr had not seen much of his cousin. He had stayed in bed for two days after the incident and had ruled his kingdom from this very room as far as his advisors and secretaries (and Malik) would let him and he would much rather stay in here forever - Just him, General MacGuffin and Malik.

That sounded like a perfect plan, did it not?

"I don’t know." Altaїr sighed but sat up anyway. "When I think of the banquet tonight my stomach turns, Leonardo. I am glad you and Ezio are there to accompany me, but what shall I do when I am asked about the attack on me a few days ago?" He sighed. "I don’t want this banquet. My grandmother has died and had been put to rest today, that’s not the time to have guests and drink and eat!"

Leonardo sat down crossed leg beside him and brushed through his hair. "If you are asked about those things, you will tell them what happened. A mad man has attacked you because he was blinded by the lies the media told him about you. That is all and that is the truth, Altaїr."

"He will not be the last person to try to murder me." Altaїr stated dryly and Leonardo smirked.

"No he will not. There will be others, crazier person maybe, but you have Malik and I believe that he will do everything in his power to stop those people from killing you."

"They succeeded with my father too and my father had had the best bodyguard I've ever known."

"Altaїr you cannot escape death forever, but I have a gut feeling that your life will not be a short one. Your grandma was sure you would have a long life ahead of you and a lot of things to bring to this kingdom. You could be the change this kingdom needs to transition from the Middle Ages to the twenty-first century, but to accomplish that you need to get up and face the world again."

For that he needed to get up and face the world again. Yes, that made sense indeed. But why did it feel so hard then? He felt as if he would never been able to get up again. Leonardo stayed at his side, but as soon as he could hear approaching footsteps again, Altaїr finally sat up straight, his teddy still clutched to his chest. Maybe teddy would be a better ruler. Perhaps he should just sit his teddy on the throne and no one would ever see the difference.

It was Malik, stepping into the doorway from the lounge to the bedroom and his expression was surprised to say the least, when he saw Leonardo and Altaїr like this on the ground. "It is time to meet up with your advisors, your majesty." Malik stated and waited for him to finally get up. Altaїr looked at Leonardo and smiled briefly, before he gave his teddy to the painter and finally left the room. He felt naked without teddy.

Later that day the castle was filled with people again who came this time not to party, but to mourn the loss of a great monarch and leader. Altaїr did not feel as if the words of sentiment he received were only pretend, at least for the most part. Tonight he got to see people he had not seen for a very long time. He welcomed old friends of his granny into his castle for the banquet in her honor and though he wanted to kick the Sofians out immediately he did not. Well, he _could not_ , was the right way to put it. The Sofians were part of his royal council. They got a seat in parliament and Altaїr had no chance to forever exile them until they would make a grand mistake and reveal their evil schemes.

"My king" A butter soft voice sounded from behind him and when Altaїr turned around he was pleased to meet the blue eyes of Maria Thorpe once again. She made a polite curtsy and though Altaїr would have liked to tell her not to, it was not possible. "I heard of the attack." She then stated. Altaїr had talked to numerous people already about the attack and he was getting tired of it. He did not want to discuss this topic any further, just wanted to forget, but for once he did not feel all too anxious about it. Maria had a soothing temper as it seemed. Much like his granny. "I hope you have recovered."

Altaїr tried his best to smile. "I have experienced worse." He then stated and it was true, wasn’t it? He had already been stabbed once and at one point an insane man wanted to cut his throat. Nearly drowning in his bathtub was surely not the worse that could happen to him. Maria smirked. "So I have heard." She then replied gently and took a glass of Champaign from a tray, when one of the servants offered it to her; Altaїr on the other hand declined the offer.

"You have very interesting friends. I already had the good fortune of talking a bit to Signore. da Vinci. I didn’t know that he is a friend of the family before. I believe the portrait is his work? It is absolutely gorgeous, your majesty." He had heard that too, but still … coming from Maria … Well, it sounded more earnest and yet Altaїr was careful not to trust her too easily.

"I've heard you are engaged already? Why isn't your fiancé here to accompany you in that foreign country with all its dangerous men?" He carefully probed, when they started to walk a few steps across the hall and only stopped again when they arrived at the balcony. Altaїr did not mind the cold and for a moment he did not care if Maria could be cold in her sleeveless dress. She looked absolutely stunning and if he was not gay, he would fall for her right on the spot, that was for sure. He liked the delicate curls that framed her face and the way she wore the rest of her probably very long hair in a delicate updo.

She chuckled a bit. "Yes, well, all those dangerous men! Robert indeed warned me about all those dangerous Arabs in this country, especially he warned me about the king! Did you know that the king was famous for sleeping around while living abroad?" She then said in a hushed voice and Altaїr did his best to play along, though it had never felt harder for him to do something like this. Was this classified as flirting or were they just old friends jesting? Suddenly every move he made had so much weight to it. Suddenly every gestures of him were a state affair. Suddenly every smile of him or every furrow of his brows could lead to a war.

"Did he really?" He asked back in a hushed voice, giving his best impression of a surprised gossiper he could in that situation. "Unbelievable!" But it seemed Maria sensed his current state of emotional distress and gently laid her delicate left hand onto his right upper arm. He could feel the warmth of her hand seep through the thick fabric of his black sherwani and right into his skin. He let his head drop a little, but grinned sheepishly at her, when he noticed her worried look. Maria was only a tiny bit shorter than he was and her full lips would be an open invitation for most men to kiss her right now. "I'm afraid I am not the best company today."

This time Maria pinched him and Altaїr jerked away in surprise. "Your grandmother died, my king. You are allowed to be sad and to mourn her death. No one will blame you for being human."

"But I am the king now."

"So? Kings tend to be humans too most of the time, am I right?" He was quiet for a moment and just leant against the balustrade of the balcony, looking up into the clear sky, while thick flakes of snow were slowly sinking to the ground.

"Tell me about your fiancé." He then demanded quietly and Maria snickered, when she closed the distance between them and mirrored his current position leaning on the balustrade. She did not shiver though her skin was covered in Goosebumps.

"My fiancé … Well. I only met him a few times. His name is Robert and he and his family are _friends_ of my family."

"So it is _that kind_ of a relationship." Altaїr concluded quietly. Of course he knew exactly what kind of arrangement that was. It was normal in their respective communities. Ezio was engaged to a woman for a while now and he had never met her before, even for Claudia his parents had made an arrangement already.

"Yes." She sighed but she sounded not all too sad.

"And you can live with something like that?"

"Well, you see, I was born into this very secluded community of nobles - just like you - and I was never naïve enough to believe that I would ever have something like those princesses in the fairy tales. I always knew that I would marry a man I hardly know to secure my families wealth. After all, what is marriage other than a contract? Marriage is a manmade concept after all, serving only to ensure the survival of a family's wealth and status. I believe I can find love at one point in my life, but it is very unlikely that I will ever love Robert. If things are going well for me, then I will learn to like him and maybe become friends with him, but _love_ … Well… Maybe love is for the commoners; at least that is what my mother used to say." She smiled and there was honest fondness for him in those blue sapphires. He liked her way of thinking.

"That’s exactly what my grandmother used to tell me." He then sighed and Maria shortly rested her head against his shoulder. "The newspapers will talk about us again after tonight." And Maria laughed. It was a very beautiful sound.

"Let them write about us!" She snickered. "I think we are both quite used to it, aren't we? If they ever come forward to me I am afraid I need to tell them the true story tough."

"Which is what?"

"That I am the most evil woman on this planet for having pushed a future king face first into a puddle of mud." She chuckled, before she leant a bit closer to his ear. "And that the poor, poor king is hopelessly in love with me because of that."

●●●●●●●●●

"Your tattoos." Malik hummed beside him, his fingers gently brushing over the tattoo on his hip.

"What's with them?" He murmured slowly. He was exhausted again. Maybe that was because he was not well enough to _exercise_ like that already.

"What do they mean?" He liked lying like this, snuggled into the embrace of his most trusted servant, while Malik was gently placing a small kiss to the nape of his neck, making him shiver in anticipation. "I mean I understand what this one" - He brushed his thumb over his hip again and pressed a bit closer against his back. It was really hard to ignore how very much naked Malik was right now -"means. But why on this spot? And what's with the rest?"

Altaїr hummed and closed his eyes a bit, enjoying the feeling of Malik's hot body pressing against his like this. He had hardly ever felt so close to someone else and he enjoyed it when Malik's strong arms wound themselves around his body to press him tighter as if his life depended on it. He was behaving a bit different since the incident, maybe even more possessive, but more protective for sure.

"I decided my first scar would be the best spot for it." He sighed. "When this person stabbed me and nearly killed me I understood that for those people it did not matter that I was a child, that indeed _everything is permitted_ for them. It’s a reminder of being always cautious; though it seemed that I have lacked cautiousness greatly last time someone wanted to kill me." Again there was a small kiss to his neck.

"You seemed to get along with Maria quite well tonight." Malik hummed again and gently pinched Altaїr's ear with his teeth.

"Are you jealous? If you are, then maybe I should invite her more often. I like the way you behave when you are jealous."  And again he was bitten, but this time right into the back of his neck.

"You imp." Malik snickered oh so very close to his ear.

"If she was not engaged I would consider her to be my queen, to be honest." Altaїr confessed.

"Well, I do believe she would be fit for this position." Malik stated and was a bit more serious this time, when he rolled onto his back and away from Altaїr. Altaїr on the other hand turned around to crawl right on top of him again, sitting up to straddle his hips.

"You really are jealous!" Altaїr grinned when he was looking down at him. It was weird how less he cared about his naked body and all its flaws when he was with Malik.

"I am not." Malik sighed, but clearly he was. "I am well aware of the fact that you need to marry and father a whole army of little Ibn-La'Ahads."

"I think one or two would suffice. And don’t worry, I will sent the mini-mes right to you as soon as they are sticky or smelly."

"No you won't. A father has to love all his children, even those who are sticky and smelly, so you'll keep them with you." Malik chuckled gently and finally grabbed for Altaїr's hips, if only to busy his hands. "Are you sure about the deal you are going to make with the farmers?" Malik finally inquired and furrowed his brows in worry, though Altaїr on the other hand knew that Malik would never interfere in his political decisions. So, instead of answering (because the answer was _no_ ), he leant down and stole his lips for a kiss.

"I don’t want to discuss politics when we are both naked." Altaїr groaned, gently kicking General MacGuffin down from his bed.

●●●●●●●●●

"His plan is not bad." Ahmad stated dryly and by now he felt a bit like stuck in a time loop with his son pacing back and forth the salon in front of the fire place, while he sipped on his brandy and tried to read the newspapers to be up to date with the current state of the world. Well, to make a long story short: the world was a very crappy place indeed at the moment.

"His plan is not bad you say!" Abbas frowned. "His plan is a disaster!"

"His plan is the only logical conclusion such a young king could come to." Ahmad replied carefully. "And I do think that he didn’t even come up with this plan on his own. We can consider ourselves lucky that Signore da Vinci is going to leave very soon again, otherwise the king would be able to really rule this kingdom successfully."

"He does not even know what he is risking with this move! He will anger our usual business partners greatly and everything just to help out the local farmers! That is insanity!" Abbas yelled, but his father only raised one eyebrow. He was by now used to his wayward son's very lose temper when it came to Altaїr. It had been Abbas sending Haras over the cliff. They did not need to speak about this for Ahmad to know that and though he was not condemning this action he thought that Abbas had done it too soon. Now they had Haras imprisoned and waiting for his death sentence and one possible alley to use less, but still a very much alive king.

"It's brilliant." Ahmad sighed. "Like this he will get all the sympathies of his commoners. Those weak individuals normally like it, when their monarchs show sympathy for their subjects and their problems."

"Sympathy will not help him when he dies! They liked his father and grandfather too and yet they are dead!" Abbas hissed, foaming with rage. "And then there is this fucking Al-Sayf brat ruining everything just like his father had!"

"I said it before, Abbas, and I say it again: Altaїr will dethrone himself in time. He is not fit to be a ruler unlike his ancestors. The people will learn to see behind his façade and as soon as the truth about him will have come out, there will be war in this kingdom. We don’t need to kill him, his subjects will."

●●●●●●●●●

When Altaїr was licking his far too dry lips Malik could not help but follow the motion with hungry eyes, like a predator following his prey's every move, like the eagle watching the mouse closely. For a moment Malik was amazed by how small Altaїr's feet were. Malik was only rarely ever particularly interested in feet, but Altaїr's feet suddenly caught his attention, mainly because they were resting against his abdomen right now, while Malik himself was leaning with the back against the headboard, enjoying the feeling of heat around his throbbing cock. His feet really were delicate for a man. His long fingers too.

"Stop … staring!" Altaїr moaned, resting his back for just a moment against Malik's thighs, after he had pulled up his knees for Altaїr as stabilization.

Malik only smirked and traced down the line a bead of sweat had traveled down Altaїr's chest with his index fingers. "Never." He grinned cheekily though it was quite hard to maintain his cheeky behavior when his cock was fully inside another person's body. Not that he would not like that fact … or the person his cock was stuck in. Suddenly Malik could not help but think of Altaїr as a young (younger) teenager, making his very first experience with a man like Leonardo, sprawled out on the floor of his atelier within a mess of cans of paint and brushes, his body covered in blotches of half dried paint, writhing in pleasure as the painter conquered his fragile body.

Maybe he should start painting.

"Malik _please_." Altaїr whined when Malik was about to drift off entirely, but was reminded on the task at hand by the very frustrated tone of the king's voice. And again he could not help but grin very smugly, when he let Altaїr almost drop onto his back after removing his legs from behind the monarch, only catching the startled king with his strong hands pulling him up, only so that he could lean forward and ravage his mouth once more. It was delicious how lightweight Altaїr suddenly felt when Malik crossed his legs underneath him so Altaїr could sit on his lap more comfortably. He enjoyed the sudden sensation of Altaїr's long legs crossing behind his back before the monarch started to move again, his slim arms tightly wound around Malik's broad frame as he did. His left hand was digging into his shoulder for support, his right hand was clawing at his skin, while Malik's own fingers were slowly grabbing Altaїr's hips again, helping him going up and down slowly, before he let his left hand slip just a bit, so he could sink his greedy fingers into the soft flesh of his perfect ass.

Malik was breathless within seconds and when their mouths parted he did not even try to suppress a low moan. Never in his life had another body felt more perfect. He thought back to the rushed and mostly aggressive trysts he shared with strangers in shady alleys or bars. There had never been a time to really _feel_ , to really _enjoy_. Only rarely he had found time to discover another man's body like he was now discovering Altaїr. Every time he had fucked someone or had let himself get fucked it was just about the act, never about the other person, because of the danger that always accompanied those little tête-a-têtes. Malik had always thought, that he could live with that, after he was an abomination against nature with his body's demands for another man and his dislike of the amenities the body of a woman had to offer to him (though he of course tried it), but being around Altaїr made it exceptional harder to think like that.

Altaїr was oh so greedy for being touched, for being conquered and feeling that he was wanted and Malik was greedy to give him exactly that. Altaїr's body was beautiful, when Malik slumped down onto his back again and pulled him with, so he could dig both his hands into the flesh of his bum, massaging the reddened flesh and he enjoyed the way with which Altaїr dragged his own body over Malik's with every desperate thrust to get more and more of Malik's lengths inside of him. Apparently he liked it to be filled to the brim, though suddenly the thought seemed way too indecent to Malik.

He could already feel the exhausted clenching around his cock, could already feel how close Altaїr was and how close he was himself, before he was finally allowed to snake his fingers around Altaїr's cock to lazily stroke him in tune with Altaїr's movement. It was not easy to resist a man like Altaїr and that was partly because Altaїr had not the slightest clue how good looking he really was or how sinful his every movement.

When Altaїr reached his climax with a long desperate moan, the tension was nearly unbearable for Malik as Altaїr kept his movements alive to not only ride out his orgasm, but to deliver Malik the same pleasure he just had been granted. Malik was only a gasping mess underneath the young king, digging his nails hard into the flesh of Altaїr's buttocks, before he bit down hard into his shoulder to stifle his cry of sudden pleasure when he was allowed to spill inside the young monarch.

It was much later, when Malik was still staring at the stucco of the ceiling, restlessly listening to Altaїr's breathing beside him. He enjoyed having him close and when Altaїr tried to turn away from him in his death like sleep, Malik turned him around again only to pull him closer and enjoy the feeling of Altaїr snuggling against his chest again, as if they were lovers and as if they had nothing in the world to fear. The romantic inside Malik still fantasized about kisses shared in secret in dark corners of the castle, of rendezvous in the dead of the night where no one would ever expect them to be, but the rationalist in him knew that they only had this bedchamber and that everything would end, as soon as Altaїr would be married. He was already way too invested in the young king after a little more than a week and he felt ridiculous because of it.

Teddy was still lying next to the bed, a sad reminder of Altaїr's and his shared childhood in this castle, but Malik reckoned that this really was not the place for an innocent teddy anyway.


	9. Eaglet

●●●●●●●●●

The day had already begun with a bad omen, when one of the majestic eagles, which were still nesting in the big tower of the fortress, fell dead from the skies and the promise this omen delivered was not to be escaped. Altaїr was actually no superstitious person, but the eagles that were nesting up in the tower (the very same tower where Altaїr had fallen into a hidden well, when he was a child), were sacred creatures for the people of Masyaf and especially for the royal family. Those eagles were their royal insignia and they were decorating absolutely every room of the castle. They were here since the dawn of time, some people said, and Altaїr had always loved to watch them. Of course, they were mere birds and birds died just like all living creatures were to die at some point or another, but for some strange reason Altaїr felt quite unsettled after this incident. He had witnessed the death of the bird first hand on his jogging round with Malik this morning and though Malik had taken care of the bird's final rest, Altaїr could not help but keep thinking of this majestic creature falling like a stone.

A little while had passed since the incident that involved a bathtub, a crazed member of the royal guards and the young king. Just a little while and yet the whole kingdom awaited the trial of the man that wanted to murder their king. The Judgment was already quite clear and settled, before the trial could even begin. Haras's crime was high treason and there was only one punishment for high treason: death - And in Masyaf, the death sentence meant either hanging or beheading. Therefore, the people of Masyaf were not really waiting for the _trial_ in itself, but for the moment when Altaїr would decide if the punishment would be executed or not.

"Haras is dead." Altaїr almost spat out his morning tea, when the door to his office was opened (lately Altaїr preferred to eat his breakfast while working, though Malik thought the possibility of stains on important documents might not be the right risk to take for such a young monarch) and Al Mualim, one of his most trusted advisors, barged in.

"What?" Altaїr instead coughed, putting down his cup, while his secretary only rolled his eyes and seemed ready to shield the parchments in front of Altaїr with his body if necessary.

"I got the news from the prison a few moments ago." The old man continued with a serious frown on his old face, which made it look even more gray and tired. "Apparently he has hung himself in his cell."

Altaїr sat back heavily in his chair. Well, he would have died anyway, would he not? He was not naïve enough to believe Haras would have lived on very long, even if he had decided on changing the sentence for his crime to life in prison. Still, having the man that wanted to kill him commit suicide in prison was not at all good. Within a trial, they might have learned about the people that made him do it in the first place, but now they got nothing.

" _This_ is bad." Altaїr concluded with a silent sigh and he could not help but glance shortly at the portrait of his father still hanging within the office.

"Well of course, my king, now you don’t need to decide on whether you grant him mercy or let him hang, but of course, this is not the ideal way." Al Mualim agreed quietly. During a trial, they could have learned so much more about the reason why Haras had committed the crime. Maybe they could have forced something out of him - the _truth_ , maybe. Whatever that was. He had told Malik he wanted to kill him because of the things Altaїr had done while living abroad, because of the way the western society had tainted him and because he had believed Altaїr had turned his back to Allah. However, was this really the sole reason that had lead to his decision? It was impossible to say now that he was dead. "You are still suspecting the Sofians, aren't you, my King?"

It was hard to keep a secret in the eyes of his mentor. Rashid knew him since the day he was born, so naturally he knew him quite well. He could sense when something was afoot. "Well, I think that is not so very much unlikely, right?" Altaїr asked and tried a lopsided smile.

"That might be right, however, your majesty, don’t you think your family's feud with the Sofian had gone on for long enough now? I understand what is fueling this dispute, but never there was any evidence brought to my attention, that spoke of the Sofians guilt in any of the deaths of one of your family members." Of course, he was right. They never got any evidence that the Sofians were traitors and planned any of the horrible things that had happened to his family, but still Altaїr could not let this thought slip. Maybe he had been indoctrinated to believe that the Sofians were evil and maybe he should just try to give them a fair chance. However, he felt as if he would betray his father, if he did.

"I don’t know what to think, Al Mualim. All I know is, that the only man who could have told us about all this, is dead now, while the media will report about this and tell the world that Haras did it because he thought I was gay and tainted by the west." Altaїr spat.

"Well, Sir, that is hardly the worst thing that has ever been told about a king. Your great, great, great grandfather had the rumors put into the world he would lie with goats. In addition to that, about one of your ancestors during the Middle Ages there had been rumors that he thought of himself as a seagull before he jumped down the highest tower of the castle, fully believing he would be able to fly."

Altaїr grinned. Yes, he knew those stories well and as a kid, he had always thought them to be quite amusing. However now, that he himself was in the very same situation as his ancestors, he could not really see the amusing part about those rumors about himself, perhaps because in his case they were true. He could never risk the truth to be known by the public.

It was much later that day when he sat down once more in the large conference room, which he himself found very much outdated and dusty. "Your majesty the situation with the farmers outside the city's gates seems to be resolved for now." One of his advisors, a large man with black hair and a clean-shaven face spoke, while Altaїr was carelessly flipping through the pages of the report.

"Yes, _for now,_ that is exactly the point." Ahmad Sofian snorted. "But our usual trading partners who are supplying the kingdom with those commodities are getting impatient, my king. They cannot quite understand why you ended the trading partnership with them so spontaneous."

"They still get the money we own them or do they not?" Altaїr sighed. "It was the only logical step. Our own farmers cannot sell their goods to Aleppo, Acre or Damascus anymore since the war in the rest of Syria exploded like that, so it is our duty to help them and if that means, that our usual trading partners need to look for someone else to sell their commodities, then so be it. _We_ never quite understood why we do not work with our own farmers and rather relied on outlandish trading companies for foods and other goods. Masyaf wants to be independent from the rest of Syria, so we shall be independent."

"But our trading partnerships with those Syrian companies and partners had strengthened our relationship with those alleys." Ahmad scoffed.

"Surely, but we think that our own farmers are more important than those. Other then this, since the war has erupted so much our trading partners cannot maintain the supplies anyway. We kept our partnerships with France and England, after all and we believe that those are the way more important allies to keep, in case those terrorists try to attack our beloved kingdom."

Altaїr could only hope that Leonardo's advice was right, but Leonardo was normally right about things. He was no politician though, but Altaїr was positive that Leonardo had lived long enough alongside politicians that he knew a thing or two about the things that he was dealing with. Leonardo was a well-known guest in several royal households after all and the Auditore were somewhat political too, tough their political refuge was built out of money.

"I hope that you are indeed right, your majesty and that our allies will understand the current situation the way you do." However, Altaїr looked at his former mentor Rashid and the old man smiled at him in that very fashion he had always smiled when Altaїr had done something right.

●●●●●●●●●

The newspapers were full of the story of Haras, the man who had killed himself while in prison because of the high treason he had committed in the night that had followed the death of the queen grandmother of the young king. Some of them reported only briskly about the criminal and the way he had killed himself, some of them titled the story as if it were breaking news coming directly out of Hollywood. In most of the newspapers, the story was shrouded in mystery and rumors, in darkness and suspicion. There was the saying of Haras not having killed himself but _been_ killed by the people that had brought him to commit treason in the first place - a story that Altaїr himself found not so very much unlikely, though he promised to himself that he would try to look at the Sofians from a different perspective than he had before.

However, those newspapers liked to report on that matter and for Altaїr it was no less a mystery and no less unclear. "Surely he wanted to escape trial." Malik frowned and to Altaїr's surprise, he was not even slightly out of breath while he himself was already wheezing and coughing and had the hardest time ever keeping up with Malik in his god damned black shorts and these most abhorred long, muscular legs. He surely liked the other kind of exercising with Malik more, though clearly they needed to be more careful.

"Yes clearly." Altaїr wheezed. One month. He was exercising for one month with Malik now and he only made little progress so far. Malik was still hopelessly over-powered, but then again he thought it might be a good thing that his bodyguard was a man like Malik. At least he would not need to fear that Malik could be fought off by an attacker as easily as he was himself. "But now we will never know who instructed him to kill me!"

"You still think someone else was behind all this?" Malik asked, while he slowed down his pace just enough so that Altaїr would be able to keep up with him, while they were already taking their third round around the castle. When they started training one month ago, shortly after the incident in the bathtub, Malik said they would be starting slow by just running around the gardens, but that had also meant for Altaїr to wake up even earlier than he normally did. At first, he had only frowned upon that decision, but now he was quite glad for the darkness they were shrouded in while exercising. At least that way no one could witness his shame. His skin was hot and he was sweating and all in all a disgusting mess.

"Of course!" He yelped, though his legs felt like pudding and his lungs as if they wanted to climb out of his body. "Haras might have been a weak minded individual, but I sincerely doubt that it was him all alone."

"Altaїr - _my king_ \- I really think that you _want_ to believe that it had been the Sofians." Altaїr scoffed at him, though it was not that easy with his lungs ready to spill out at any given moment now. "I hate them just as much as you do, believe me, but I don’t think that they are behind everything bad that is happening in your life."

"Oh you don’t think so?" Altaїr hissed and finally he stopped, though mainly because he simply could not go on any further without coughing out his organs. He did not want to argue with Malik. They were _arguing_ often enough anyway. For as long as Altaїr could remember, he could not understand this weird friendship that had been forged between the both of them when they had been but bratty children. Of all people Altaїr had always been the only one who was _allowed_ to mess up Malik's carefully organized systems unpunished and though Malik would always deny that fact, he had always been quick to add that Altaїr was indeed royalty and thus was allowed to mess up whatever he liked to mess up.

All Malik had ever done when Altaїr started to mess around with his things, was to glare at him, while for other people, such as Malik's own brother, a behavior like this would mean certain death for sure. Their main way of interacting seemed to be through annoying and insulting each other up to the point were normal people would have already turned their backs to one another, just interrupted by the occasional friendly conversation. At least that way it had been before Altaїr had left Masyaf seven years ago. Nowadays, mostly one would find them squabbling with each other and Altaїr enjoyed it for some mysterious reason most people could not even begin to understand for the love of Allah.

However, since he was home they never seriously argued and Altaїr would really like to keep it that way. When Malik stopped and turned to look at him, it was hard to say what was really going on in his head, but that was hardly new to Altaїr. It was always hard to explain Malik's train of thoughts. "I don’t think … Well, honestly, I don’t know. Sometimes I think that this hatred for the Sofians is just the result of how we have been raised by our parents. Of course, some of them had done horrible things, but I find it hard to believe that an entire family can be evil from the start. Yes, I know that the Sofians are power hungry men and that they are still lurking for an opportunity to get the crown, but don’t you think it is possible that they are not the monsters we have been taught to see?"

It was as if he was talking to Faheem Al-Sayf all over again. For just this moment out here in the cold darkness of a February morning, Malik had so much of his father, that Altaїr could hardly see his friend Malik in him. It was alright, he guessed, because maybe he now needed someone like Faheem - someone like Malik - to set his mind. Al Mualim already told him that it may be not wise to think of the Sofians as inherently evil creatures and maybe this was right. Just as well, as the Ibn-La'Ahads were not inherently full of wisdom and other kingly abilities, the Sofians could not be inherently evil, after all. "Maybe you are right." Altaїr mumbled, though he would happily argue about this with his bodyguard. Maybe his father's accident had been just that: an _accident_. Of course, it was highly unlikely that so many of his family members had died due to those kinds of _very tragic accidents_ , but it was not impossible and Altaїr knew that pretty well. Maybe he had always known this, but had not wanted to believe it simply so he would have something to fuel his hatred for the Sofians with.

"Anyway, it seems my deal with the farmers is working just fine. They are delivering their goods from now on to the city and especially the castle and we do not need to throw our money at foreign companies instead of supporting our local farmers. I don’t know why it hasn't been like this before, to be honest!" Altaїr then gasped, before he sat down on a nearby bench. He was exhausted. Really and utterly exhausted.

"Well, that was mainly because those farmers got more money for their goods from the markets outside Masyaf where they had previously sold their goods and we got our supplies cheaper from the outlandish companies. Now we needed to settle on a new price with our own farmers. They get less money than before, but we still need to pay more. It is not an ideal situation, but I believe it is better than letting their goods spoil and rot, this way they get at least somewhat for their hard work and goods. It will work for a while, but it is no solution for the long run, I am afraid. Though, as long as the war in Syria will keep on going and as long as it is too dangerous for our farmers to sell their goods as they have before, we all need to adjust to this new arrangement." Malik was not sitting down (of course not) instead, he was jogging at the spot so his muscles would not get cold again (or something like that, Altaїr had a hard time concentrating on what Malik had to say when the man was wearing shorts like these).

"Did you swallow a book on economics tonight?" Altaїr grimaced. Of course, Malik knew absolutely everything about this place - better than he knew for sure. Of course, Malik knew absolutely everything about Masyaf's economics and the problems of the local businesses and farmers. Of course. He was Malik Al-fucking-I-am-better-than-all-of-you-Sayf, King of Swords at your service. Prick. However, Malik laughed and Altaїr liked to drown in that sound. He was maybe a bit pathetic considering that he was king for a whole month now and thus a figure of grace and guidance.

"No, I just watch and listen." Malik sing-sung with that evil smile of his, when he started stretching and a part of Altaїr was quite sure that he moved on purpose in that very way that would drive the young king to the brink of insanity.

"More like a hawk or like an angry owl?"

"That is up to you, I guess. However, you, _cricket king_ , are being praised already for this idea of yours. Your subjects love you, now that your farmers don’t need to struggle as much as before and now that they do not need to endanger themselves any longer on the way to Damascus or Acre." Yes, this idea of _his_ , had helped improve his status greatly he assumed. He really needed to write Leonardo a thank-you letter for that. Right now, he was not the party prince anymore, not the scandalous king that had been seen two times already talking quite intimately with an engaged woman. The change in the topic of the headlines had been very much welcomed not only by Altaїr and his advisors, but clearly by Malik too, though his shadow would never admit to this.

"The real question is: How long will this hold?" Altaїr then sighed before he got up. He knew that he would not escape now and they had still three more rounds to run - four, if he would rest any longer.

●●●●●●●●

Altaїr was a tosser. For Malik it was still quite weird sleeping this regularly in someone else's bed, but since he started sleeping in Altaїr's bed (feeling unworthy all the way through the night), he noticed that Altaїr was quite the energetic sleeper. He was always tossing and turning and sometimes even mumbling incoherently in his sleep. One night, Malik had been shaken from his slumber by Altaїr rambling on and on about a pizza someone had stolen from him, the next night he had been able to listen in to a conversation of Altaїr and seemingly one of his cousins about a game and how unfair it was, that he had lost. Tonight he was completely still though and Malik finally found time to just lie on his back and stare at the ceiling. Of course, it was quite dark, but the light of the full moon shone through the large double winged door of the balcony right inside the bedroom.

Two months. Now it were already two months since Altaїr came back home and though he partly was still the bratty teenager, he was becoming the king now more and more with each passing day. What a weird thing. Sometimes he hardly even recognized Altaїr, when he could watch over him while he was working. Well, Altaїr had always been quite quick to adapt to new things, unlike Malik. Now it were two months from the point when all of this had started and still he had no clue what _this_ really was. Of course, they slept together a few times. It was not as if this was a reoccurring thing or tightly scheduled even. It was not as if they were fucking every night or at least two times a week. It was not as if they were a couple, because they clearly were not.

It was fine when it was indeed happening and Malik enjoyed it very much, but truth was that it could not keep on happening. Of course, he was afraid that someday this would all come out, especially now that those rumors already existed in the world and he knew that Altaїr was afraid of this too, especially now that again the first newspapers were making headlines over his sexual desires and his past, instead of the economic changes he already managed to achieve. However, that was not the real core of the problem. Not for Malik at least. If someone was to find out that he was gay, maybe even that he was sleeping with the king, clearly he would be dead quite quickly unlike Altaїr and that was a risk he of course rather liked to avoid, but which he was not really afraid of. What he feared for was the man next to him, sleeping tight, curled up in his blankets.

It was this moment, when Malik had no other choice than to curl up around him and to pull him tightly against his chest and nuzzle his nose in the crook of his neck, which Malik feared so much every day. This was not right. His behavior was not right. He was endangering Altaїr with this. If his emotions would take the better of him, he would not be able to protect Altaїr as he should. As a bodyguard, he needed always to have a clear head and control over his surroundings. As a bodyguard, it was not just unprofessional to sleep with his protégé, but it was dangerous. He was more prone to see danger now for Altaїr around every corner than he had been before and that could cost not only Altaїr his life, but Malik too. He would not speak of love of course. _Love_ was such a big word.

●●●●●●●●●

The people were in uproar. They were talking behind closed doors in hushed voiced about the newest secrets that had slipped through the cracks of the castle's walls. Altaїr sat on the steps that were leading to his throne, in solitude - for once. How was it even possible that one could fall so deep so quickly? It was as if he had leapt from the highest tower of the castle right into a bale of hay. Not even one month ago his subjects had loved him, had came up with endearing names for their young king, _King eaglet_ was just one of them. His subjects had proven to be much more forgiving of his sins, than he would have ever expected and what choice did they have anyway? It was not as if they could vote for him to be swapped by a king that would be better for this job, right? This was not a democracy, it was a monarchy and sadly, his subjects had no saying in the matter if Altaїr would not grant it to them.

"You are still so very young, you can make mistakes." Altaїr threw the newspaper to the side and buried his face into his left hand.

"Can I never have one moment of peace to myself? Is that really too much to ask?" He sighed in annoyance. He was annoyed with himself, annoyed with the darkness of this late hour, annoyed with the person that was wandering through the halls this late at night. By this time of the day he had left the royal _we_ behind long ago. He was simply tired.

"You are the king, so I suppose, _no_ is the right answer." Al Mualim sighed, when he carefully stepped closer. His blind eye was shimmering ever so lightly in the darkness of the throne room and his steps were just as heavy as Altaїr's heart was.

"I guess I should not be so surprised by this new story about me. It is hardly new for me to be vilified as I am now. Maybe I should try and develop a thicker skin already." Altaїr then said, but buried his face in his hands nonetheless. He had known that it would come to that eventually. He knew how the media functioned. He knew how they got their little stories about _famous_ people. Of course, one day someone was bound to speak up about him.

"It is quite alright to feel defensive when someone attacks you, my king." The old man gently stated when he came to a halt right in front of him and then slowly sat down next to the young monarch. Briefly, Altaїr found himself thinking about the eagle again that fell from the skies one month ago, the day Haras had killed himself in his cell. Up until now, there was no evidence that someone had forced him to hang himself or even evidence that someone else had killed him. Altaїr would not have thought that the people of Masyaf would be in such an uproar about that incident and everything that was involved in it, but he knew that they were still talking and scratching their heads about it.

Apparently, the eagle that had died that day had been quite a young bird.

"But I shouldn’t let it affect me in such a negative fashion. I am quite used to people talking trash about me since I was very young and living abroad." Altaїr huffed and stared at the newspaper. "The first stories about me were written when I was just thirteen and living in Florence, after all."

"Your subjects will not take it seriously, your majesty and even if some of them may, it won't affect your position in any way. You are still the legal ruler of Masyaf, no matter how many men claim to have lied with you or how many women will claim you have fathered children with them. Your father had fought a long war with stupid claims like these but it had never affected him in any way, and why should it?"

 _Because it is true in my case,_ Altaїr thought but bit his tongue. _Because my father was not gay. Because my father did not sleep around like a bitch._ Al Mualim surely thought it was his youth that was driving Altaїr to feel so deeply affected by those rumors and that was exactly how it should be. "Because my enemies could try and use this against me. There are already voices calling for a new order in this kingdom. For a revolution perhaps, and I would not even oppose a revolution, if it were not for me losing my head in the wrath of it and if that meant that Masyaf would become a democracy. A whole lot of people do not agree with my way of dealing with things. They do not like my decisions so far and they do not like, that we are not getting involved in the war around us. They think I am but a coward not to throw my hat in the ring too."

"And they are not the ones who would need to justify the decision of joining the war. They are not the ones to pick sides. They are not the ones needing to deal with the damage a decision like this could cause."

Of course, he was right. He was the one who needed to decide whether Masyaf would join the war in Syria and more importantly on which side they would fight or which side they would support at least. For Altaїr it was quite clear and surely, for most of his subject, it was too, but he could never be too sure about that fact. He had no clue how his subjects stood in all that. He had no clue if they would like to join those… those terrorists raging about the country in the name of their so-called god. He had been too far away for too long a time. "I like Masyaf to keep being neutral in all that crap. I do not wish to position myself in that matter." For he could only draw more negativity towards himself because of it. "We don’t have enough military strength anyway to join a war, no matter on which side we would be fighting on."

"That is indeed true." Al Mualim then replied with a soft smile tugging somewhere beyond his enormous beard and a bit Altaїr felt like the child again he had been in Al Mualim's lectures. "But I am afraid you will need to position yourself in that matter eventually. Now, however, you should not ballast yourself with those rumors published about you in the media. There are more pressing matters than this."

Of course there were, because there always were. Since he was crowned king, there was always something new, always some emergency, always trouble. Apparently, now the farmers could not keep up with the deal they made with the castle. Some of the local businesses were not getting the supplies they needed, for some of the farmers just faced a major damage concerning their goods. Farm animals were dying out of the blue and crops were soiled. If things would not get better, their economy would dramatically be damaged by this. Normally, this would not affect Masyaf as much as it did now, for they would have their other trading partners within Syria, but now they only had their French and British partners as back-up, but no harbor or airport of their own.

Maybe it had not been his best idea after all. Well, it had not been _his_ idea at all. However, he still had trust in Leonardo. The man was a genius and he had never disappointed him in anyway. Maybe this was but a period of drought every smaller country or kingdom like theirs needed to face at one point or another.

Slowly Altaїr rose from his spot again and slightly stretched. "I am going for a walk now, I think." He said as he looked around the dark throne room. He needed to occupy himself, he needed to talk a bit, and though it was still extremely cold outside the walls of the castle, no matter that it was already march, he wanted to go outside a bit. March, how weird. Desmond's birthday was right around the corner and he would not be there for the first time in forever.

"Shall I inform your bodyguard?" The old man enquired behind him, but Altaїr shook his head slightly.

"No. I rather be alone." Maybe _being alone_ in such a time was not the very best decision. It was march and he had only three months left to decide on a potential bride, that was yet another thing he needed to think about constantly now, for he was being reminded nearly every day not only by his council but his subjects too.

The newspapers were throwing out headlines as if he had been an unmarried king for ten years already and not for just two months. He was well aware that the fact that he had not yet announced whom he was going to marry only fueled the rumors of him being gay in the masses. Though it was true of course, he could never stand behind this fact and he could not bring himself to look at the pile of applications either. He was disgusted by the way, those families were throwing their daughters at him and he knew that nothing good could come from a union like this. Sure, his grandparents had founded their marriage on such a situation, but he was not naïve enough to think he could be as lucky as them.

He needed to have a wife who would support him, who he could trust with absolutely everything. He needed a wife which whom he could be open with about his inner self, who could maybe understand and perhaps even accept him as he was. He needed someone with an open mind, a freethinker and not a naïve little girl who just turned eighteen (as he had) and was dreaming about being a princess or a queen even. He needed a wife who exactly knew what to expect of her position. A team player, a friend, a buddy, a companion, someone who understood.

He was well aware of the fact though that he would never find a girl like this in the pile on his desk. A few of them he had already met in person, if not all during the various festivities and other appointments within those two months of his kingship.

He found himself outside the castle again, out there in the cold air of the night. When he stopped into the courtyard, he could see the light from Rauf's little shed and for some reason, he felt a bit safer out here, knowing that Rauf was still on duty. Of course, this would not help him in anyway if it was his time to go, but his shed was a little bit like seeing a lighthouse out on a boat in the stormy ocean. A faint glimpse of hope. From Malik he knew that Rauf had been a friend of Haras and that he was very shocked when the attack had happened. He trusted this man even though Rauf admittedly even visited Haras in prison the other day. A part of him thought about talking to Rauf about the whole situation, but then he turned away and left the courtyard to explore a bit of the older parts of the fortress.

He was driven to the old tower where the eagles were nesting and the small path leading up to the tower was not hard to find even in the surrounding darkness. He paused just for a second to look at the tower in full, but then he wandered towards the large door. As a child, he had never had a change to go inside but now it was unlocked, for whatever reason. He did not really care why the door was unlocked, but just opened it and stepped in. It could be of course a trap set up for him, but then again that was highly unlikely, wasn’t it? It was too dark to really see anything inside the large tower, but when he looked up, he could spot a faint light somewhere above.

Suddenly he could feel his whole body tense and fear creeping up his spine. Why would anyone be up there this late at night? He had not seen the light from outside the tower, but he was not willing to just leave again. After all, he was the king and he had any right to be here. "Hello?" He called after the person who was apparently up there. In a movie he would now have heard the rustling of wings and surprised birds fleeing the tower, but there was no such sound. Maybe there were no birds left in the tower. A sad thought for the young king truly. He waited a few heartbeats and nothing at all happened, but then finally a voice sounded from above.

"Hello? Who is there?" He knew the voice, that was sure, but it was hard to really tell who it was by the echo that was contorting the sound of the voice if just a bit. A deep voice for sure, a very gentle and warm sounding voice.

Altaїr paused again, thinking of what to answer to that. _It's me? The king?_ "Altaїr." He decided. He was done for today. It was already around midnight and for today, he decided his shift was over. Now he was Altaїr and not the king. The person up there seemed to think quite differently about this, as Altaїr heard the sudden ruckus the man made. It sounded a lot like someone was very quickly about to climb down a few ladders while clinging to a source of light and trying not to fall out of pure nervousness.

"M-My king!" The man suddenly stammered while he apparently kept climbing down, at least Altaїr could see the light move down and now he was quite sure to whom the voice belonged too. "I didn’t know you wanted to visit the tower. I do not want to disturb you, of course!"

"It's okay, Rauf." Altaїr smirked, though he did not really felt like it. Apparently, he would speak to Rauf tonight after all. "What are you even doing here so late at night?" Altaїr found himself asking. Of course, he would have rather been alone right now to get his head clear, but since this was apparently not going to happen anyway, he could as well talk to Rauf. The man stopped when he reached the last ladder down to the ground and looked down at him, until he seemingly realized how unseemly this was for a mere guard and climbed down further. He was quite quick for a man of his statue, though Altaїr noticed that he was not using his right hand to cling to the ladder, only the left with which he was also holding his flashlight.

"Well, you see, my king" He began clearly a bit uncomfortable in Altaїr's presence – maybe even a bit embarrassed. "I was just looking after the eagles up there. Malik told me about the dead one the other day and now I just wanted to see if the eaglets were alright still."

" _Eaglets?_ " Altaїr asked and there was once again this ridiculous little spark in his chest, the very same spark he always felt when he had been but a young boy in this castle hearing about the eagles in the tower. He had always been fascinated by birds in general, but eagles especially. Of course, maybe it was because of his name, maybe it was because the eagle was the royal insignia of their family, maybe it was because the symbol of the eagle had indeed a very long tradition in this kingdom. However, whatever the reason for it was, he loved those birds and he was always thrilled to see them first hand, though he never got the chance. Of course, not, they were no pet animals after all.

"Yes! Sadly, the mother bird died lately too and now that both their parents are dead, I keep looking if everything is alright. They are not that small anymore, but it appears as if one of the bigger ones had already kicked out one of the tinier ones out of the nest." Rauf's eyes were glistening in the light of his flashlight, which he still held in his left hand. It was only then that Altaїr noticed that he was holding something close to his chest with his right hand, and a moment after that he finally recognized the small ball of feathers he was gently cupping. It was almost entirely white and completely fluffy though Altaїr had always thought they would not have developed feathers so early. Its beak was not even as big as the last digit of his pinky finger.

"Is that the one that had been kicked out?" Altaїr asked suddenly very quietly, as if he was afraid to disturb the little thing, and leant closer to Rauf to have a better look at the tiny thing.

"Yes it is." Rauf stated with a half-smile somewhere hidden in his bearded face, before he carefully presented the little bird to the king in a gesture that told him he should hold it. "Sadly my wife would throw me out on the street, if I would bring yet another pet home. Last year, I already took home a stray dog and three stray kittens, but maybe you could take care of the little eaglet, your majesty."

Altaїr hesitated and stared with a look of pure disbelieve in Rauf's face, before he carefully (oh so carefully!) took the small bird and brushed a thumb over the tiny, tiny head. It was warm, but not as warm as it probably should be and Altaїr just followed his (very mother-birdy) instinct and quickly held it closer to his own body. "But I don’t even know how the care for a bird, let alone a tiny one as this. Surely, it will die within the next few days under my care! I can't even keep plants alive!" The young monarch protested, though he felt the heat in his cheeks and the joy somewhere deep down in his guts.

"I can show you – If you allow me to, your majesty. I have cared for a few birds in my life already. I always liked to take in hurt or out casted animals. I should still have the equipment that is needed – that is if my wife had not thrown it away already." The man laughed and his laughter was almost contagious, at least Altaїr could feel a smile creeping up on his face.

Again, he looked down at the bird and he had absolutely no clue how to handle such a small being, such a small little life. In the near future, he would have kids of his own if everything would happen, as the people around him were eager to. Maybe in one year from now, or maybe in two, he would hold a baby of himself and he was not at all ready to even think about that possibility. "Maybe I should practice a bit with a baby bird before I have my own."

"Oh don’t worry, my king, human babies are not that hard to deal with after you have figured out where the top and where the bottom part is." Rauf chuckled. Yes, Malik told him this man had already a whole bunch of children as it seemed. He could picture Rauf being a loving dad, a man caring for hurt animals must be!

"I trust you in that." Altaїr grinned and when he flashed a glance at the man in front of him, he shortly thought that his cheeks had turned quite red all of the sudden. "However, it is good that I meet you now. I wanted to talk to you about something anyway." Altaїr then began. After all, he could not always escape the topic of Haras, right? At some point, he needed to deal with it like a real man, and now was the time, as it seemed.

"Are you worried about the security measurements, your majesty? I can assure you that we do everything in our power to-"

"No, not that." Altaїr stopped Rauf before the man could have a heart attack. "It's about Haras." And Rauf stopped and shortly took a deep breath. His face was quite serious all of the sudden, though he could also make out a hint of sadness in his dark eyes.

"Haras, your majesty?"

"Malik told me you two have been friends before the attack."

"We were, that is true. He was a bit younger than I am, but we were close comrades and good friends. I could always trust Haras with everything concerning the safety of the royal family and if it would have ever get this far, I would have even trusted him with my life." Rauf explained in a soft and earnest voice. "But what he did I condemn. I still cannot believe that he wanted to kill you, your majesty and the news about his attack on you hit me with the utmost surprise and disgust. I have worked for the royal family my entire life, just as my father and my grandfather before me. I have faith in the royal family, no matter what people or the media might say. Haras on the other hand seemed to have been quite badly influenced by all this turmoil."

"I know." Altaїr sighed looking down at the eaglet again. "Maybe this is partly my own fault for acting out like this when I was living abroad, but I wanted to know if you have ever witnessed someone … Well, maybe talking to Haras, _influencing_ him in any way." He carefully dug down deeper, careful not to anger the man in front of him in any way.

"I have not, your majesty. At some point, shortly after your arrival, he started to complain about you and the rumors he had heard about your life abroad. I think, he had thought like this for a very long time for all the negativity we heard from all around the world about you, but it seems to me that suddenly he snapped. I do not know why. Maybe it was the death of your grandmother that drove him to commit the act."

"It seems no one will ever know the truth." Altaїr sighed and there was silence for a moment in which they just stood there and in which Altaїr just concentrated on the feeling of the small bird in the palm of his hand.

"Would you have pardoned him?" Rauf finally asked and his question was that of a friend, asking about another friend's wellbeing and fate.

"I don’t know." Altaїr then sighed. "Probably. I am no friend of the death penalty anyways." Rauf nodded briefly, before he bit him a goodnight and then quietly left the tower, leaving Altaїr behind with the little eaglet and the darkness of the tower.


	10. Darif the royal eaglet

"So how do you want to call it?" Malik's face was the purest image of a man losing all his faith in the mental health of another human being within just a few seconds, Altaїr had ever seen. When he had come back to his chambers, Malik had already been there sitting with a report on the sofa, highly concentrated on keeping his eyes open until the young monarch, which slipped through his hands and escaped into the dangerous world outside, would come back to get his ass kicked.

"Well, I don’t know! How about Gizmo? Or… _Brutus_!" Seemingly, Malik had forgotten how enraged he had been just moments ago. Of course, Altaїr should have taken Malik with him outside. He knew it was dangerous for him to wander off alone, Haras's attack on him had only proven that point quite unmistakably. However, it had felt good to be alone for once, to not be followed around the whole time – no matter how much he loved to have Malik around. He felt safe in Malik's presence, but he was not willing to be a victim. He was not willing to only walk around holding the hand of someone who could protect him.

"How about Darif?" Malik sighed and his very much-annoyed face made it quite clear even to Altaїr that he was being sarcastic, but Altaїr liked the idea – if just to annoy the living shit out of Malik and made him focus on other things than his rummaging into the night.

"Yes, I think Darif is a good name." Altaїr grinned sheepishly, looking down on the very fluffy feather ball in his hands. Well, it was fitting he supposed.

"You will not name a majestic eagle _cute_ , Altaїr." Malik sighed as if he still thought he could tell him what to do or talk sense into his brains. Ridiculous, really.

"But why not? He _is_ cute!" Altaїr instead insisted and brushed his thumb again over the small head. _Darif_ made a small sound that was something between a chirp and a screech. Poor baby bird. Surely, this scowling man frightened him. Oh, such a vile creature.

"You cannot call a bird of prey _cute_!" Malik tried again, though his face made it quite obvious that he began to understand that his resistance was of no use.

"Watch me! I think he likes his name!"

"I think you- wait _he_? How do you even know that?" He probably expected some scientific proof for Altaїr's decision on the bird's gender, something he had looked up before.

"Well, he looks like a nice decent Sir to me!" Maybe he would buy him a tiny hat or something stupid like this. Altaїr never had his own pet animal. Connor had a whole bunch of all kinds of pets, but the most he had loved the little puppy wolf Connor had once rescued from a bear trap out in the forest – though that was almost eight years ago and the _pup_ was not at all a pup but a possibly very dangerous beast by now. In the Kenway house, there had not been a single room, where one was not to stumble over a lazy cat, a dog lounging around or even some bird chirping profanities from a chandelier. He would post a selfie with his new best friend the moment Malik would turn his back to him.

"I think you Sir, need to go to bed. We have an appointment tomorrow at four AM." Malik finally gave up with a roll of his eyes.

"Four?" Altaїr shrieked.

"Yes, this is your punishment for sneaking out of my supervision like this. We start at four with running, then we go downstairs and I teach you a thing or two about hand to hand combat."

"Naked?"

"No." Well that was probably part of the punishment for his behavior. This night Altaїr slept alone in his room – of course only after taking a selfie with his new friend in the bathroom and sending it to his cousins.

●●●●●●●●●

The king was not allowed to use his social network accounts any longer. This was quite clear to absolutely everyone in the room. No _Instagram_ , no _Twitter_ , no _Facebook_ and especially no _Tumblr_ any longer for the king. Everyone seemed to know this – only the king did not. There was a photo of the young king trending not only all over the _World Wide Web_ , but also all over the local gossip magazines _and_ the rather decent political newspapers. It was not a nude pic for once (thank Allah!) and it was not at all indecent for once too! It was just the young king in his bright blue sherwani, standing in his bathroom holding a ball of feathers right next to his face, which he called _Darif_ the royal eaglet apparently, based on the captcha of the photo on Tumblr.

"So do we need to call the bird _Prince_ Darif from now on?" Abbas Sofian hissed, when he threw the newspapers onto the table. Altaїr war met with ten very stoic and stern faces, when he leant back in his chair (which was of course a little bit bigger than the others were).

"Well, this would be a nice thing to do, but we think he is just fine with being called _Darif_. We believe such mannerism is not so important to him." He answered and could not help the smug undertone in his voice. Really, he found it quite funny what a fuss everyone was making just because of this stupid picture. There was nothing wrong about it. For once. He was not naked. He was not making any indecent gesture. There was nothing indecent in the background. Just him and his new little friend. Still his council was behaving as if he had just declared war on Russia. "So, we don’t understand what is wrong with this photo that it upsets you so much."

"Maybe we, your council, are upset because you made a fool out of yourself, your majesty, in such a dire situation!" Abbas hissed and suddenly slammed his fist on the wooden table. Immediately Al Mualim tried to calm him down, but Abbas just rose from his spot on the round table. "Our kingdom is in a moment of need! Our farmers are having serious problems and are already crippling under your ridiculous deal and you, my king, are posting selfies with a bird! But not only that! You are trampling our monarchy and our kingdom's believes in calling a _bird_ 'royal eaglet'!"

"He _is_ a royal bird!" Altaїr defended himself and crossed his arms in front of his chest even though he might look like a pouting toddler like this. He had not really thought about the consequences or that there would be such serious consequences anyway. He had thought it to be quite funny and that his subjects would like to see their king a bit more normal, a bit more like a normal human being. He had not thought about it being inappropriate considering the current state of affairs, though Abbas was right. It was inappropriate and so his subjects seemed to think too. "The eagle is our heraldic animal after all. What is wrong with showing our subjects that their king is a normal human being? What is wrong with showing them that we are trying to coddle up an out casted bird? The newspapers were all over the place when this one eagle fell dead from the skies, the day Haras killed himself and called it a bad omen for our kingship! So what is the problem in showing a _good omen_ like this?"

"Because the king is _not_ a normal human being!" Abbas yelled and this time Al Mualim got up from his chair and rested a soothing hand on his shoulder, but Abbas shook it off and stepped back from the table, while his father's face was seemingly made of stone. "The king needs to be a god like figure in our society! The subjects need to trust their king in every aspect of their lives! They need to have someone to look up to, someone who they can trust to always do the right thing, to always make the right decision and to not take selfies in the royal bathroom with a _bird_ instead!" Altaїr opened his mouth to respond to that, but before he could even do that, Abbas left the room and slammed the door shut behind him. Well, where were the good old times when he would be allowed to chop off his head for a behavior like this?

Silence filled the room like a cloud of thick, heavy smoke and settled like dust on their heads. For a moment no one spoke a word, the only sound was the small creak when Al Mualim sat down heavily again. When Altaїr looked into the faces of his remaining council, some of them were starring uncomfortably down on the table; some of them were looking at the ceiling or staring straight ahead. No one seemed to be willing to speak up first.

"We know that our behavior might not have been right or justified, not only last night, but also in the past." Altaїr began slowly, but still most of the men would not look at him for now. "However, during our time abroad we learned many things. We learned how monarchs are perceived in other countries - especially in Europe. The people of those countries like to see their leaders as normal human beings, as people, just like everyone else. They like to feel close to them, they like to feel as if their leaders would understand their day-to-day lives and problems and struggles. We've seen how they are behaving. We've met enough of them to understand how important it is to show one's subjects what kind of person is ruling them. The president of the United States is not so popular because he knows how to pull off a good joke from time to time, but because he is relatable, because he likes to engage with the people of his country, if only via social media. All of the great leaders in the world have learned how to use the internet to their advantage, so why shouldn’t we?"

"Your majesty, if you allow me this comment: We are not in Europe or the US. Things are different here." Ahmad Sofian spoke and though he received a bit of agreeing murmur from his colleagues, his words were dripping with venom. Oh, he enjoyed this little debacle and for a moment, Altaїr really considered giving in. He could send a letter of apology to his people. He could hold a speech on national television for everyone to see about this topic (about a selfie with a bird!). He could do those things and then delete every social media account he ever created.

"No we are not, you are right." Altaїr then answered and locked eyes with the man, who not even tried to conceal his hatred for him. "We are not in the US or in Europe. Things _are_ different in Masyaf. We are surrounded by a nation torn apart by war and terror, and most of our guidelines and rules and laws are still straight out of the middle ages. You are right, but that is exactly what needs to change. It is time to pull Masyaf into the twenty-first century already. We do not seek to be a king that will be forgotten as fast as the last one. We do not wish to be just one more insane person in a long line of insane persons and only very few great kings. We want to make an impact on the world and on Masyaf and for the people of Masyaf to know that their king is young and inexperienced and makes mistakes like everyone else, but that they can also trust us to always make the decision which is in their best interest, not in ours."

"You are a child and you speak like one." Ahmad hissed and a collective gasp shot through the remaining council, but Altaїr did not even bat a lash.

"Of course we are." Altaїr sighed and he was sure that he would get a serious problem with speaking in this pattern some day. "However, we can learn and we are here to learn. Also, we will not do as you ask of us. We will not delete those accounts. We are willing to have them monitored though. We need a team of professional PR advisors to maintain those accounts from now on - and maybe we solemnly promise even to stop posting selfies with the royal bird. However, we are not willing to be a king like those who came before us. We do not wish to be an almighty figure. It is easier for the people of Masyaf to understand and forgive mistakes we _will_ make in the future, if we are not this godlike figure but only human."

It turned out that his council was not always acting in his best interest. Of course, Altaїr had already assumed the Sofians to hate his guts and to try to manipulate his reign in some way or another, but he had not expected so many of his council to act as if they would too. The PR advisors they employed after Altaїr's little speech that one morning turned out to be the most inexperienced pricks he had ever seen.

"Frustrated?" Malik sighed, as Altaїr's punch nearly caused the monarch a bloody nose, for the way the punching bag shot back immediately. At least he ducked away fast enough, still Malik stepped behind it and held it still, while Altaїr shot him a gloomy look. He was already breathing hard, beads of sweat running down his forehead, his cheeks flushed red in exhaustion, before he stepped back and threw his gloves to the ground with a frustrated groan.

"Have you not read the fucking newspapers already?" Altaїr hissed when he strode through the large room and finally kicked against an innocent mat on the ground. "For what did I even hired those idiots? It’s a complete and utter disaster! They have no clue how to represent me and the worst thing is, that still everyone thinks that I am the one who is posting this crap!" Not yet one month had passed since Altaїr's decision after the selfie-incident and while Darif war thriving under his care (with a lot of help of Rauf and his animal magic), his reputation spinning like an airplane out of control. Already polls were stating that his subjects were not happy with their young king, and while many of the elderly apparently stated that he should wait a few more years and give the scepter to someone else until he was ready to be king, the youth flat out demanded a new ruler. It was insanity.

"I did." Malik responded quietly and out of the corner of his eye, Altaїr watched how he strode back to a bench near the wall and sat down heavily. He liked his training with Malik. He liked the exhaustion. Of course, he liked it more when he was utterly exhausted because Malik had fucked his brains out until he forgot his own name, but he liked this kind of exhaustion too. He liked that Malik treated him not as if he was the king - at least while they were down here or up in his bedchambers. When Altaїr would hurt himself during the training Malik was not cowering in fear and he enjoyed that. He could be _Altaїr_ around him. There was no need to talk as if he was schizophrenic with Malik. He did not need to hide a thing that was on his mind. "Don’t-"

"Do not say ' _Don’t worry, Altaїr'_." The young king hissed and finally turned around again. Outside the castle, it was still dark. Outside the castle, most people were still asleep and unaware of the thoughts rattling their king's mind. Malik snapped his mouth shut and he could already see a bit of anger in his dark eyes. Oh, Malik could not stand being interrupted or being confronted with stupidity and arrogance like the arrogance Altaїr liked to show once in a while. "I am king for almost three full months now and already managed to anger the people of Masyaf so much that half of them wants to dispose of me entirely while the other half thinks I should give the crown to Ahmad Sofian, _until I'm fit to rule_! My deal with the local farmers was a disaster! Already a few local businesses started to sue me for their losses since the deal started! And those idiots are posting ridiculous statements _of me_ to make me appear more sympathetic while all they do is making it worse!" He hated to raise his voice in front of Malik, but he could not help it either and Malik at least did not flinch or paddle back. He kept sitting on his spot on the bench and looked at him out of his vibrant brown eyes until he was finished. There was nothing Malik could do to really help him or to ease his mind and the both of them knew his pretty well. There was nothing he could do or say to make him feel better and Malik was not in his position either. He knew as much about being a king as he did.

"Are you done?" Malik asked after a while, still sitting hunched over on the bench, with a snarl and a roll of his eyes that could best be described as annoyed. For a moment, they were back in Rauf's shed in the night Altaїr arrived.

"No!" Altaїr growled.

"I think you should talk to Rashid." Malik stated anyway and finally got up from the bench before he grabbed Altaїr's gloves from the ground. "I think you should go out in public more. I think you should attend a few more political gatherings in the city or social events and show-"

"I don’t care what you think, Malik!" Altaїr spat, just when Malik closed the distance between them to give him back the gloves. "You know nothing about being in my situation and stop treating me as if you would know best what to do. You are just my fucking bodyguard and you have one job: to protect me, but even in this job you failed already! We are both fucking failures, so just keep your fucking mouth shut already, okay? I do not need your advice."

One might have proposed, that Malik looked hurt after this outburst of his, but Altaїr was not one of those people, and he did not think that he would be able to hurt Malik like this anyway and yet he rather turned to leave the room, shortly afterwards - not because he could not stand Malik's presence any longer or because he could not stand the look in his eyes, but because he exactly knew they would rip each other's throats out if he would stay. Malik did not look hurt, right before Altaїr left - he looked furious.

●●●●●●●●●

 _The music was loud and blaring out of the speakers all around the fraternity house, going **boom** , **boom** , **boom** with every heartbeat, echoing from windows and mirrors and naked walls, while students (mostly quite drunk already) were cheering, laughing or screaming at each other's faces (because _ talking _was simply not possible). It was surely not the first party Altaїr attended, but he was only sixteen and he should not even be here. He was a child, a teenager and though most of those students around him were teenagers, they were all over eighteen for sure! Maybe a part of him felt intimidated by all those girls in their very, very revealing clothes dancing to the blaring techno music, but the bigger part of him was simply joyous to be here._

 _It had cost him quite a lot of effort to get his cousins to take him here. Both of them, Desmond_ and _Connor had been against it, while Altaїr had kept nagging them like a three year old child (which he still was for the most part of his day to day life), but finally they had given in. Well, Desmond did. When they arrived at the frat party Connor's position in bringing his under-aged cousin to this party was quite clear (" **You** allowed him to come here, so **you** look after him. If he gets hammered and does something stupid, then it is **your** fault, Desmond.") – It was not so much because Connor wanted to party without taking care of his baby cousin or worry about his wellbeing, but mainly because he did not even want to come here in the first place._

_Connor was now studying in Oxford anyway, but he decided on visiting his cousin here in the US together with his mom for the holidays, so that they could spent a bit time in their old village. Of course, Desmond used the opportunity to get Connor to visit his former college, where he was not studying himself and Connor agreed, though he immediately back paddled when the first girls approached him and asked him if he was coming to this very party. Connor was a quite likeable character and much more popular than he was even aware of. This was a nice trait about him. Connor was not a man who would brag about being popular or was even trying to be popular in school. He simply was and most of the time he did not even recognize that fact as truth. It was a bit different with Ezio and Desmond._

_Ezio was a ladies-men and he really liked to go out and party through the night. He was always chatty, always funny, always nice, always happy. He was like the sun and he always drew all the attention towards him, much to his little sister's displeasure. Most people who encountered him liked him, though he was arrogant and foolish at times and often behaved like an asshole. He was that kind of person who was always be forgiven for his sins and people seemed to like that about him._

_Desmond on the other hand was polarizing; either people liked him or hated his guts. Out of his cousins, he was the one who was the most like Altaїr. He was a dork, but most of the time people did not understand his quirks. He was sarcastic and cynical and most people were thrown off by this behaviorism, but the people that did come to like Desmond, were loyal friends and comrades and for whatever reason people were always quite happy to see him at parties – Well, maybe because Desmond knew how to mix proper drinks and knew a few tricks. He was not exactly shy, but he was more quiet than other people, but when he was at a party like this one, he was soon the center of attention._

_Altaїr on the other hand was still just an awkward teenager who had not yet managed to grow into his paws. Of course, he would not let anyone know about that fact. For the main part of his life he had not been very tall, quite the contrary in fact. He had always been quite little and frail, but during the summer he finally had this long anticipated growth spurt and managed to gain a few inches. Now he was at least tall enough that people would not look twice at him rummaging on this party. He had gone out with Ezio since he was fourteen; he knew how to enjoy himself, but most of the times his cousins took care of him not getting any real alcohol. Tonight was his chance though. Connor already disappeared out of sight and Desmond was surely on his way to get a beer. He vanished from his side, when a blonde girl grabbed Desmond's arm and pulled him into a tight hug._

_He was free at last._

_Free to look for opportunities to party, to get horribly drunk and maybe even to find someone to have fun with. It still was not quite easy for him to find someone he could have mutual fun with – a man, that was. He could have girls without problem, but this was simply not what he was craving right now. He was only a sixteen-year-old, hormone driven idiot and he was craving the D, as Leonardo so politely liked to put it. So he snaked his way around the party and it took him not long to find the dancefloor. Oh, how he loved to feel the pulse of the music shaking his entire body. He was a good dancer and he knew that. He thrived in the feeling of following the music with his body. He was boneless yet again and he was sweaty like the people around him._

_Right in that moment, nothing mattered. Not the invisible crown on his head that most people gladly did not even know about, not his family, not the harsh rules that were laid out for him. Midnight was his curfew tonight and he wanted to make the best of it._

_He had no clue how long he had been on the dance floor, but he noticed the guy on the other end of the room, staring at him openly. Of course, this was the US. This was college. People did not need to fear to be stoned to death by their pals here. So instead of walking up to him Altaїr kept dancing and he knew that the guy was looking at him, he could feel his eyes upon him, following the motion of his hips to the beat and he could not help but grin in triumph. He liked to tease, that was half the fun for him. The girls that were coming up to him he mostly ignored and he liked to see when they were leaving frustrated. He liked feeling empowered, though this might be a bit arrogant. But those girls, they were nothing special, they were nothing he was looking for. They were just some mediocre chicks and the sex would be just mediocre too, for girls like those were never willing to play around and Altaїr was someone who got bored quite quickly._

_This guy on the other hand did not look all too mediocre. He was tall and strong in built, but though he was staring openly at him, while sipping his drink, he did not seem to be a guy who would approach him in front of all those people. Maybe, if they would be in a more secluded area…_

_Altaїr left the dancefloor and caught glimpse of Desmond doing his thing at the bar. He would not get alcohol there and of course, it was not allowed on campus anyway. Still most people here were drunk and Altaїr was curious where to get the good stuff. It turned out his new fan could help him with that, for when Altaїr left the dancefloor and stepped into the hallway the big guy was right behind him, shoving a plastic cup at him._

_"You look thirsty." He said as Altaїr first looked at the cup and then up at him. He could be a football player or something like that, judging by the tree trunks he called legs and the big muscles on his arms that were clearly visible right now. He was only wearing a tight (very tight) muscle shirt and Altaїr almost could not help but dragging his fingers over the deep lines he could see through the thin black fabric. His skin was tanned, his eyes a dull grey and his hair a deep brown. Hard to say where he was from. Maybe India, maybe turkey, maybe none of this and Altaїr hardly cared either._

_He was not looking for a name, a heritage, a story, or a real life **person** with their own history even. He was looking for fun. He was looking for sex. He was looking for a guy with a damn big cock and this guy looked as if he could deliver. He did not care that he was shallow. He did not care that people already called him a slut (male and female, which was the most funny about it), as long as his family would not know, he did not care. It was not easy finding men to sleep with when he was guarded by watchdogs all the times, so every time he got the opportunity he would gladly jump right into it. _

_"I am." He replied with a mischievous little smirk, when he took a sip and almost spat the liquid out immediately. He did not. He forced his face to look not at all disgusted and swallowed. Well, he had learned to swallow, he guessed. Leonardo was a good mentor after all. It was absolutely disgusting and Altaїr could not even really determine what it was he was drinking. It was sharp and it burned. "Did you spice up the punch?" He tried a cheeky little enquiry, when he forced himself to take another gulp from it, hoping it would taste better. It did not, but Altaїr was not willing to let the guy know that he had never drank hard alcohol before._

_"It's Vodka." The guy stated with a faint smirk. "Wanna go for a walk? I can show you where the good stuff is hidden."_

_Apparently, the **good stuff** was hidden in the basement of the frat house. Waking up the next day, Altaїr could still remember how he and the still unnamed probably football player had passed a few people smoking weed down there and even a few people making out or flat out fucking against a wall. Altaїr had not cared, but the sixteen-year-old boy in his mind had been flat out staring, while he had tried to minimize the excitement rushing through his body, when the big guy had lead him to the room the hard stuff was kept in. He had seen something like this before on the parties he had visited. He had seen people smoke weed before and he had seen people snorting a line of coke before. He had never seen any other drugs. Apparently, he had in this night, sadly he himself could not testify if that was true indeed. _

_When he woke up the next morning the light from his window almost blinded him and he had no fucking clue how he even got here. He seemed not to be naked, at least he was wearing his jeans from last night and after a quick investigation of his surroundings, he managed to decide that this was indeed his bed in the house of William Miles. This was quite clear also by the stern face of his Uncle Bill looming over him. "He's awake." Someone stated and it took Altaїr a moment to realize that it was indeed Bill who had talked. He took another look around, only to see Connor and Desmond sitting in the room. Connor looked pale, exhausted and on edge, sitting on his cushioned windowsill. His normally quite orderly mane was loose and messed up and he had dark circles under his eyes._

_Desmond was occupying a spot in front of his desk on the floor, sitting cross-legged on the floorboards, the back of his head against the wood of the desk. His nose was bloody and streaks of dark red were dried to his skin, forming lines coming from his nostrils and ending on his chin. His left eye was bruised too and he too looked horribly pale and exhausted and as if he had just had the most devastating nightmare one could ever think of._

_"What's going on?" Altaїr moaned. Oh, his head hurt as is it was going to split in two. His stomach ached and his throat felt dry and stung with pain. If this was a hangover, he was never getting drunk again._

_"You’ve got into trouble, that’s what happened." Bill groaned and got up from his bed. Altaїr had not even noticed that he had been sitting on the edge of his bed, before he got up. His uncle was white as a sheet, but now there were the first angry blotches appearing on his skin. "Those idiots were meant to keep you from harm and didn’t do a very good job, that’s what happened!"_

●●●●●●●●●

"Your shadow looks especially displeased tonight, your majesty." Altaїr almost jumped, when he felt the delicate hand on his left shoulder, while he had been completely lost in thought while staring at the painting in front of him. The world around him was almost deafening with its noises, the laughter, the music and the smells. He always enjoyed parties and being the center of attention, but since he was back in Syria, his passion for those things had stagnated quite heavily and quite quickly. Maybe that was because now all the attention he got, was only for the crown he was currently not even wearing, while before he had to do something for getting the attention. Oh and he had enjoyed it, he had drunk it up when people looked at him and wanted to talk to him or to be seen with him only for the reputation he had.

"Miss Thorpe." Altaїr stated when he turned his head. Maria stepped next to him, but she did not look at him and rather at the painting as if he was not even there. "I wasn’t aware that you were here too. What brings you to this charity event?" This charity event he had not even wanted to attend, mainly because he did not want to proof Malik right.

"I believe the same as you, my king." She smiled, while her eyes were slowly investigating the painting ahead, carefully following every line of the brush the painter had used some decades ago. Altaїr was not a huge friend of charity events like this one, for he always suspected that people who needed to make a big event out of everything only rarely really did something for charity. Most of the people in this gallery were here so that their photos could be taken by the numerous reporters around or by the paparazzi outside, so that the entire world would now about their big hearts and generous personalities, while in reality they would not even give a starving child a sandwich. "Charity. And of course business - Well, business for the main part I assume. I already noticed that not even half of your guests tonight are really interested in charity."

"They are not _my guests. T_ onight, I am but a guest too." Altaїr replied with a dry smirk. While he did not enjoy those events, he did enjoy being in an art-gallery like this. He always had a thing for the fine arts, always liked to paint himself, but hardly ever got the chance. He could sit for hours on end in front of a painting and just admire it. Of course, that was not the first thing people assumed about him. For most people he was but a bratty teenager - and he assumed they were indeed right.

"You are the king, my king. You are never but a guest I'm afraid." Maria snickered and finally got his attention with this, when she brushed her fingers over his shoulders as if to brush off a bit of dust there, before she gave him a glass of champagne she apparently got before for him. With a silent _cling_ they clinked their glasses (well, Maria did actually, while Altaїr just stood there). She was a marvelous woman and though he was not really interested in women (not with a man like Malik in reaching distance anyway), she had something he could not really explain. She got this otherworldly touch to her and perhaps she was one of the very few people who could always distract him with just being there.

"I guess you are right." He sighed and took a sip of his glass before he looked around again. Of course, a few people were already watching them again, but he did not care. His situation in the media could not get worse anyway. "So my bodyguard seems to be displeased you say? What makes you think that?"

When he spotted Malik at the door to the hall, they were currently occupying the guy looked decidedly calm – his gaze directed in another direction. "Well, first of all he is staring at you as if he wants to strangle you, my king." Maria grinned and started moving. Altaїr followed her and of course, Malik was too, but he kept his distance.

"Does he now?" Altaїr grinned and shot another glance at Malik, who again looked in another direction. It was almost funny. He gave his best interpretation of someone who was not at all angry, while rage was radiating from him like boiling lava from an erupting volcano. "Well, I guess it is not totally impossible that I might have said something to him before he didn’t particularly like. But why should this concern me in any way?"

She gently grabbed his arm and Altaїr did nothing to stop her. The media already constructed stories and rumors about them. There were voices inside his country and out there in the world who did not like those stories, but Altaїr could not care less. If one was to ask him, she was just his childhood friend, the girl who had the balls to push the future king around like the spoiled brat he had been. "It shouldn’t." She stated nonchalantly and with a little hum to her voice, when they left the hall and entered a smaller room with fewer people inside. "But it does." She then continued.

"Is that so?" A part of him liked the little game she was playing. Of course, other men would maybe think she was trying to get her hands on a king instead of some rich guy in France - to get an _upgrade_ maybe - but Altaїr could not help but still think of her as a friend, no matter the years that had passed.

"That is so, your majesty." Maria grinned.

"And why is that?"

"Well, because of the very same reason I care deeply when my lovely bodyguard Annabelle is angry with me, my king." She whispered closely to his ear and though Altaїr was shivering because of the close contact of her lips and his ear (he had extremely tender ears anyway), his heart skipped a beat and for once not out of enjoyment. He could sense the underlining message, he _knew_ , what Maria tried to tell him, but it was impossible to say it out loud right here and now of course. He felt her blue eyes digging into his face, before he could bring himself to look at her and see the small nod she gave him. Then she parted from his side without another word and left the room only to leave him behind, feeling like a complete and utter fool with his glass of champagne in one hand and no idea what to make of this situation in his head.

It was not much later, that Altaїr met her again in another room. The event was slowly coming to an end and by now the donation pot was still only half filled. Altaїr of course needed to admit, that it was a rather large pot, but the guests ( _his_ guests as Maria had put it before) were rather large individuals too, when it came to their bank accounts. Right here in this gallery on this event only the wealthiest people of Masyaf and other cities had gathered. "I have an idea." Altaїr approached the lady in the midst of a rather passionate discussion with another woman, seemingly about one of the paintings showing the naked butt of a female. Maria almost flinched when she looked at him with flushed cheeks, clearly angry about the other woman's point of view, but Altaїr really did not care, when he gently dragged her away. "You need to help me with this."

The newspapers already had a love-hate relationship with him, Altaїr knew this pretty well. they loved him for the way they could make money with stories about their new and inexperienced king, but surely they hated the things he did every now and then. They liked to rip him apart for the whole kingdom to read, but Altaїr decided they would get something tonight for which they really could rip him a new one. He had nothing to lose now anyway, did he? His PR-advisors were an army of dumbasses which were tweeting unnecessary stupid things (Even stupider then sixteen year old Altaїr smoking pot and tweeting about it! Even stupider than seventeen year old Altaїr sitting half naked in a tattoo parlor making gang signs and posting the picture on _Tumblr_!) and ruining his image with everything they were posting more and more to the point where Altaїr could fear for his life if he would visit the kingdom without the national guard. So, since he was already the most hated king of them all, he could as well turn the rich people against him too, right? He did not really care for their support anyway (though he probably should).

Maria's initial reaction had been a look as if she was really questioning his mental health, but then she had agreed with a snicker. She liked the idea, that was pretty clear to Altaїr. The other guests did not like it so much it turned out, when Altaїr got the security to barricade the doors, when the first wanted to leave.

He hated holding speeches and he had done his fair share of speeches for tonight, still he freely walked up the small stage again, when he heard the first outcries of anger from some rich old men wanting to get out. The previous quite good mood suddenly shifted into a boiling pot. Still it took not much time until he was given the attention he demanded and though the people were still mumbling quietly, when Altaїr stepped to the podium, he was aware that everyone was looking at him – unlike during his previous speech when the event had been opened by him. He could already see his secretary standing near the wall with huge eyes, ready to have a heart attack, just as one of his PR people, which he needed to bring along. Of course, they started panicking when their king started speeches on his own!

"Ladies and Gentlemen." He began with a faint smirk on his face. He simply could not help it, but at least did his best not to show his amusement too much. "It came to my attention that the donation pot is still half empty and since the event is slowly but inevitably coming to its end, it would be nice, if all of you would once again take out your checkbooks and wallets and give what you can spare. It is for a good cause, after all. These are dire times, ladies and gentlemen and we all know this. However, wouldn't it be nice, if people like us could at least make a difference for the orphans in our country, which perhaps lost their families because of the war around Masyaf? We are here to make a difference after all - at least, that is what the newspapers are going to say tomorrow morning and wouldn’t it be great, if this would be in fact truth and not just one more event to distinguish ourselves with something we have never done? I believe we have gathered the wealthiest people of Masyaf in this very room and I am very thankful for our foreign guests too, which came to really effectuate the situation of our orphans in this kingdom. Maybe I am misguided in this assumption, but I believe all of you could dig a little bit deeper. Thus, I have decided that everyone, who wants out hat door, needs to donate to the donation pot first. For this matter, I have instructed the security to set the pot up next to the main door and it is my special honor to supervise this situation personally. So, ladies and gentlemen, I bet you are all just as tired as I am now. Thank you all for coming and I wish you all a goodnight and a safe journey home."

He was tired of this royal _we_. He was Altaїr. He was the king, he did like to call a spade a spade and to say exactly what came into his head. They hated him anyway, right? He was the kid-king and that was how the media wanted to portray him, so he gave them what they so desired. While the guests were mumbling and protesting against being held captive by the king, Altaїr left the podium and did exactly what he told them. The security already set up the pot next to the main doors and he took his position next to it, Maria by his side. She would be a great help when it came to persuading the people into following Altaїr's demand. And while she smiled at the guests who wanted to leave, Altaїr looked them straight in the eye while they unwillingly threw money or checks into the pot. He had not really expected this to work out, but well, he would get his beating for this action soon enough, he assumed. Rich people did not really like to be robbed of their money – not even by their king.

He could feel Malik's prying eyes upon him, while he was bidding his goodbyes to his guests, grinning widely in the faces of the very old and very grumpy men walking by. He did not care. He did not even care that some of the reporters were already covering the situation outside and inside the building or that some of the grumpy men directly spoke to the media. He didn’t mind them talking shit about him, he could not safe his reputation now anyway, right? At least the pot was so full that it was even overflowing by now. When the gallery was empty apart from the security, Altaїr and the owners, Maria stepped to the pot and emptied her wallet into the pot with a wide grin. "The company of my father is always in favor of donating to charity." She explained with a cheeky smirk, before she brushed her fingers over his upper arm. "You did well, don’t worry too much, my king." She then whispered. "But I think we should meet again to talk in private."

With this, she left him again and Altaїr could hardly suppress a small chuckle. This girl and her cheeky comments. He liked her. He liked the way she thought. She was unorthodox to say the least and maybe even more so than Altaїr originally expected. He would most definitely ask her to visit him in the castle so they could _talk in private_ a bit more and for the first time in his young adult life (or since he hit puberty) he did not think anything sexual of this. Weird. Only shortly he caught glimpse of Malik and though he still seemed angry, he seemed not to want to cut his throat anymore.

"Do you think this was a good idea?" Malik finally approached him with a deep dark murmur, when he stepped closer towards him.

"Well, judging by the faces my secretary and the PR guy are making: no." Altaїr answered and finally emptied his wallet too into the pot. "Just look at them, they look as if they simultaneously have a heart attack." He then laughed and was about to leave the building, Malik by his side. He did not say anything until they managed to get through the crowd of reporters and paparazzi and entered the Rolls Royce waiting for Altaїr in front of the art-gallery. For once Altaїr enjoyed the reporters and paparazzi storming in on him with their tedious and stupid questions ( _"Your majesty, is it true you held those people hostage?", "Your majesty, is it true you forced those people to donate to this charity?"_ ).

Malik got into the car after him and sunk heavily into the soft leather of the back seat. He did not say a word, until the car drove off, only then he turned his head towards Altaїr and finally he grinned at him. "I told you, you should visit such events a bit more often."


	11. The Lioness and the Eagle

To his surprise, the newspapers did not rip him a new one. Well, at least not all of them. When Altaїr turned on the TV that very morning, while his butler was serving him his morning tea, last night's story was all over the place. » _Apparently the King decided to hold the other guests, well … **hostage** , at least that is what one of the guests later stated to the attendant press. Apparently, he **forced** all of them to donate to the orphanage, last night's charity event was for!_ « A young woman on the morning show stated looking at her co-host, another young woman, which had a real hard time not to burst into a fit of laughter. Altaїr still remembered watching this show every morning when he had been a kid while having his breakfast in his room. They had only rarely eaten together – he, his father and his grandmother – in one of the dining rooms. » _Can you believe that?_ « She chuckled. » _Well, at least like this there was a good amount of money donated!_ « Both of them started giggling and though Altaїr grinned, Malik's expression was rather skeptical to say the least.

"You are aware, my king, that this could have very dire consequences, right?" He sighed when he slowly sat down next to Altaїr. Only shortly, Malik flashed Darif a small-annoyed glance, while the baby bird was hopping over the table on his tiny, tiny feet, trying to steal a bit of ham from Altaїr's Toast. Malik and the baby bird still had a very tense relationship. Apparently Darif was not all too happy with _papa bird_ , at least not when he was around _mama bird_. Altaїr on the other hand loved his little ball of fluff and though he had not uploaded any more selfies, he had taken a whole bunch of them - only to document Darif's development into a majestic bird of prey of course.

"What are you even talking about? They _love_ me!" Altaїr snorted, but this time it was not even a lie, he might add. Well, at least the TV Hostesses had fun this morning and so apparently the news reporters too. His social media accounts were drowning in chaos and his PR-advisors utterly exhausted, when he later met them and his council in the conference room. He had not even yet put his ass on the chair of his, when he was met with the first complain by one of his counselors (for once none of the Sofians). He was a bear like man, with a thick beard growing uncontrollably all around his face. For weeks now, Altaїr pretended not to know his name.

"Your majesty how are your advisors supposed to take care of your social media outlet – as _you_ wished, instead of shutting it down, as _we_ advised you to – when you are running around harassing people in donating their hard earned money for a charity they might now even support?" His voice was booming through the room, but Altaїr just sat down on his chair and leant back against the backrest as if he had done extremely well and was now expecting a cake for being the brat he was. He could not win those people over, he knew that by now. It did not matter what he did or what he tried, he could never win. So why even bother trying?

His council had been against him the moment he came back home, maybe even longer, with exception for Al Mualim and maybe one or two of the more laid-back personalities sitting at this very table. They would never approve of any of the things he would suggest or do and he knew that they even gave his father and grandmother a hard time. On this table of twelve sat a bunch of old-fashioned men in their traditional, conservative Arabian clothing. They rejected everything modern and everything western. Their wives and daughters they treated like second-class citizens and their sons like spoiled princes. Those men were living their lives strictly by the words of the Qur'an and never even thought about listening to other people and their point of view. They were exactly what was going wrong with this country and though he liked to swap them out for their descendants, sadly their sons were the very same, as apparent by Abbas Sofian.

"First of all, I was not _running around_ harassing people, I was standing quite comfortably while harassing people into giving me their _hard earned_ money, which they surely not even earned but inherited. Second of all, why were they even at the event, when they don’t support this charity?" When he spoke he was very well aware that his advisors could see the metal blinking from his tongue – well, he made sure they would see it. Maybe he was trying to get them to have a heart attack so that he could find new advisors, which would be more to his liking. Well, he was the king was he not? Could he not just choose new advisors for his council? People he actually trusted? Maybe a woman or two even.

"Your majesty you surely are aware that those people you robbed yesterday will pull charges against you – against the royal family!" Abbas huffed, his cheeks flashed red. Was he maybe imagining why Altaїr put his piercing back into his mouth? He surely was one of those people who thought him to be gay, so he might think of all the unruly, sinful things he could do with his tongue. Oh, such hilarity!

"They won't." Altaїr snickered, but Abbas jumped off his chair as if the bloody thing electrocuted him. Again. This was becoming a habit of his lately, as it seemed. So maybe he would not even need to replace him with someone else or chop of his head for some inane reason.

"Do you think that’s a joke, my king? This could have serious consequences for this kingdom and you are laughing over this matter? You need those people you robbed yesterday! You need their support! Masyaf need them!" Abbas shouted.

"I don’t laugh about the matter, Abbas." Altaїr answered still grinning widely as he ignored the shocked looks he got for this, while his advisors surely thought he might have lost his mind already. "I laugh about you and your hysteric assumptions."

" _Hysteric_?" Abbas gasped. "Your majesty those _hysteric assumptions_ are born from worry about our beloved kingdom! Worry for your subjects! Worry a k- a young man as you are will surely understand someday."

"Do you really think those people I've robbed of their money will press charges against me? Do you really think they would run the risk of looking like total assholes that were not willing to donate to a charity concerning numerous orphanages, which are in desperate need for this money, after they just spend the whole night on this event, eating, drinking and chatting with other influential people? Do you really think they want to be seen how they are in reality after they spend the whole night playing a generous human being? They got the chance to network on this event, so they got their benefit from the evening and I just wanted to make sure the orphanages would also benefit from this event as they should."

"There had already been a few people coming forward to the media about this incident!" Abbas hissed, his hands balled into tight fists, before he leant heavily onto the table directly staring at Altaїr like a beast ready to rip open his throat with his teeth. "How do you think should your PR-advisors or your publicists react to that? How do you think they can manage to correct this in the media?"

Altaїr shortly glanced at the people Abbas meant. Today they were all here, because they were all concerned in this situation, but his PR-people looked ready to jump off the cliffs surrounding the castle. "They don’t." Altaїr answered and looked at Abbas again.

"What?" The bear like man interrupted, mainly because Abbas seemed a bit speechless.

"They don’t." Altaїr repeated. "They cannot correct this and they shall not correct this anyway. I have done this not because I was drunk, but because I thought it was the right thing to do and I stand behind this decision. So now, after this is settled, what more? Oh yes, _you_ " He again turned to his brand new PR-slaves with a mischievous grin spreading on his face, as he turned his body towards them. Those poor guys looked utterly miserable. He never cared much for them to be honest, but now he was especially aware of how young they appeared. Perhaps that was their first real employment in their field of profession. "You guys are fired. Sorry for that, but sadly you have no clue what you are doing online. You are lacking experience in this field of profession and up until now you let me look even worse than before when it comes to social media."

"Your majesty you cannot just fire them!" The bearlike man stated with surprise written all over his face and eyes as big as plates, while Abbas's eyes appeared to fall out of his head soon.

"Of course I can." Altaїr snarled and crossed his legs. "In fact I can fire all of you, if this is what I want. I am the king, I do what I want. Up until this point, none of you did anything to really support me in my new role as king. All I have met was unnecessary critique, which made everything only worse! Since I came home to Masyaf I feel as if my council is putting obstacles in my way with every step I take."

"It was _your_ glorious idea to make that deal with the local farmers which backfired so famously that even the outlandish newspapers are reporting about it!" Abbas shouted again, this time so loud the PR slaves were flinching visibly.

"And I still stand behind this decision. I still think it is a good idea and that it is the right thing to do. No one could have known about the problems we would face and I fully believe that those incidents happening to their animals or crops were not due to natural causes either." He flashed Abbas one warning look and Abbas, though on the brink of exploding, was suddenly silent.

"What do you mean?" He growled, but slowly sat down anyway.

"Well, of course I started my own investigation about this situation with the farmers and it turned out the fungus which destroyed some of the plants was no fungus which would normally grow in that kind of soil those farmers use. But of course I do not want to make assumptions for which I don’t have any proof, unlike other people."

Other people like those who were trying to let the people of Masyaf believe that he was gay, for example.

"And now to a lighter topic." Altaїr then grinned and clapped his hands. "I made a decision in the marriage issue."

Now all eyes were resting solely upon him and it was Al Mualim who then spoke up, sitting on his right hand side as he always did. "Your majesty, we are very pleased to hear that you finally decided. Which of the candidates did you choose?"

"None."

"You need to marry!" The bear like man hissed immediately, before he slammed back into his backrest with a heavy, loud, and clearly annoyed huff of air leaving his lungs.

"Well I will, but none of the candidates. I am going to marry Miss Maria Thorpe. She already agreed."

●●●●●●●●●

Maria Thorpe was exactly on time, when she was lead into his office this Sunday morning. For just a split second Altaїr caught glimpse of Malik standing next to the door in the front office, just in case of emergency and a part of him was wondering if Malik either had too much free time at his disposal or if he was a bit suspicious of this meeting with Maria. He had not seemed all too happy when Altair told him earlier this morning that he had invited Maria to meet him today in private. Maybe Malik thought her to be a threat, maybe he was jealous. He liked it when Malik was jealous.

"Your majesty." Maria snickered, when she walked into the room as if it was the most normal thing, as if she was not roaming around a royal home, meeting a _king_ , but just an old childhood friend. That was exactly what he liked about her. "You look more like yourself again." She then stated and pointed discretely at the piercings Altaїr had put back in. At least some of them he had put back into place, like the one in his eyebrow and one or two of his earrings – and his tongue piercings of course. Malik had been a bit unsure what he should feel about this. He had not stated it, of course, but Altaїr had seen the fight behind his dark eyes, when he had watched Altaїr this morning in the bathroom, putting the thing back in. Of course, the royal protector did not like it that his king would put the metal back into his tongue, while his _lover_ Malik had already thought about how the metal would feel on his cock – probably. Altaїr of course could not read minds. He only made guesses.

"Yes you too." Altaїr then grinned, before the door was closed behind the young woman's back by one of the guards who had apparently lead her to the office in the first place. She was for once not wearing a gown and no dress either, but a simply grey suit with a beautiful white ruffled blouse underneath it. She could as well wear a potato sack and still she would look absolutely stunning. However, this was more like the tomboyish Maria he knew.

"So, you wanted to talk to me." Maria smiled when she took the seat right in front of the large desk and crossed her long legs. "I believe this is not about our little robbery last night?"

He leant back in his chair and crossed his arms in front of his chest. They were completely alone, his secretaries sat in the front room and were hopefully dealing with all those nosy calls from the newspapers. For once, he was not sure how to approach this. He had never had big problems to talk to people or to ask what was on his mind, but suddenly he sat across from this stunning woman and he did not know how to phrase his question. "Why no, it is not. It's actually about you and your engagement with this French dude."

"Robert." Maria interrupted him with a slight grin tugging on her full lips. "Robert is this _dude's_ name."

"Yes, well, _Robert_ then." In front of Maria, he did not feel the need to carefully phrase his sentences, simply because she was not making her judgement over his intellect only by the usage of a word like _dude_ out of a king's mouth. If anything, she seemed amused about that very American term.

"You were wondering what I meant last night, as I spoke about my bodyguard Annabelle." Maria grinned. Her blue eyes were trying to read what was on his mind, as if she was still wondering if she could trust him and that was exactly what Altaїr was wondering too. His guts told him that he could trust her, but his guts had already often betrayed him. He could not afford being betrayed by her – not in that matter at least. For a moment, they just stared at each other, both of them trying to figure out what to do next, both of them wondering if it was wise to open up at all.

"I am still wondering about that, yes." Altaїr then shrugged his shoulders. Now it was up to Maria what she would say to him, if she confessed anything or if she would decide not to trust him.

"Why, I thought you would be a bit faster in the head by now, my king." She teased, but then brushed a few stray locks of hair out of her elegant, pale face. "Annabelle is my lover." She finally said without hesitating any longer. "She and I am a couple for a few years already, but of course the convictions of our social standing – of _my_ social standing – do not allow me to openly love another woman, my king. That is why I accepted this arranged engagement without acting up against it. After all, I have to do is getting married to a wealthy man so we can both enhance our fortune, carry out a few of his children and then I am free to love whoever I want." She paused for a moment and it was the first time she was glancing at the edge of the desk, her eyes narrowed ever so lightly, while her left hand was suddenly clasping her right arm a bit harder. "I believe you know that feeling well, my king."

He did not speak. He could not speak. It was not wise to speak. He thought about Malik and what Malik would do in this situation. He was sure, Malik would not speak up. Oh yes, he knew exactly how she felt and a part of him even pitied her. Then again, for him it was hard to determine whether an arranged marriage worse for a woman or for a man. Who got it worse? The woman that would be forced to marry a man and carry his children or the man who would be forced to marry a woman and father those children? Altaїr was not sure that this was a question that could be answered by really anyone who was not in that situation.

With a small sigh, she raised her voice again. "I am the only child of my remaining family, the only one to continue the heritage of the Thorpes dynasty and thus the heir to a quite large fortune. Of course, there were more than enough valuable candidates for me to marry. However, my father decided on Robert de Sable simply because his family and my family are _friends_ for generations and business partners for centuries. Robert is an absolutely disgusting little shit, if you excuse my language. It seems he can't wait to marry me and I know I will be stuck in a nightmare for the rest of either his or my life, if we get married."

"Why aren’t you already married?" Altaїr finally found himself asking, though his throat felt dry.

"Well, I got my father to postpone the wedding until I turn twenty one, to go on with my studies, though I don’t really know why I even should keep on visiting college, if I am never allowed to work in the field I am studying ever again. It is pointless for a woman of my social standing to even attend college, but most of my fellow upper class girls are only visiting college to find a wealthy man. My mother never quite understood why it was so important to me to be able to visit college in the first place; after all I am already engaged."

"And now you just live with that? You just do what they want you to do?" It was of course not that easy and no one knew that better than Altaїr himself.

"Well, do I have a choice in that? Of course, I could just run away. I am old enough to live on my own. Of course, I guess, I could try to make it on my own, maybe together with Annabelle, but the past never leaves us, my king. The past is always lurking behind yet another corner and my father is a dangerous man when he is crossed. I do not fear for my own life, but for Anna. If my father would ever find out about us, he would find a way to get rid of her, only to teach me a lesson never to betray him again." Finally, she looked at him again. Her eyes were moist, but she was not going to cry. She was not sad, she was furious. Those tears she was holding back were tears of pure anger, of a wild beast that was locked into a cage and not able to get out or do anything about it. Her pain and her anger would dull and then fade into resignation, if she would marry that man and let a few years pass.

He remembered her as a child quite vividly, the girl in the jeans overalls, running around the gardens, mocking him to come and catch her. Back then, he had envied her as well as he had envied Malik. They had been free and he the caged bird. Now all of them had gotten their wings clipped, but maybe now he was the only one who could give back a bit of freedom to all of them. At least now, he understood why Maria had searched for his presence during the few occasions they have met in the past since he was back in Masyaf. He had thought it was only because they were old friends, but finally he understood that she had wanted to get close to him, only so she could try to forge an alliance between them. She wanted his help. Finally, he got it.

"And now you want my help." He stated calmly. "So you won't need to marry this man you hate, but are not risking to lose your girlfriend in your father's wrath. So what do you propose how I should help you?"

"Marriage." Maria stated. She was bold and that was a trait he always liked about her. She was blunt and confident and she knew exactly what she wanted. She was not fearful. She was a warrior. He could almost see her in full armor, protecting the one she loved at all costs and he suddenly knew that if he were going to marry her, she would protect him and their family at all costs too. She would be like a lioness to their children if it would ever come to that. A lioness and an eagle. Well, what a strange couple. Shortly he glanced to the little nest near the window and to Darif sitting there and starring at him in curiosity. "I know that you already thought about it." She stated.

"Did you plan this all along? Even before we first met again?" Altaїr asked, though clearly, it did not really matter when she started planning this, right?

"No." She smirked. "I didn’t. I thought you were a prick, to be honest. Of course, I have read articles about you and saw a few of the things you posted on the internet, but I always thought you were just a stupid punk who would ruin his kingdom within the first two weeks of his kingship."

"So what changed your opinion?"

"Our conversation at your party after your coronation." She chuckled. "And the way you have looked at Malik. Really, you need to be more careful with your eyes, my king."

"If we get married" Altaїr finally began with a small huff, though he felt his cheeks turn pink because of her last comment. "Are you going to accept and adopt Darif too?"

The silence inside the royal bathroom was nearly deafening, when Altaїr leant back in his tub and rested his head against the rim. It was the first time since the attack of Haras, that he found the bravery to take a bath again and maybe that was only because of the man accompanying him, even though sadly Malik refused to get in the tub as well. "So you trust her?" Malik asked, when he sat down on the thick rim of the tub near the statue towering on the pedestal. He still wore his black suit, though Altaїr liked him more wearing sherwani or the clothes he would wear doing sports.

"You mean Maria?" Of course, he knew Malik meant her. Whom else could he possibly talk about?

"Yes." Malik's voice was as deep and calm as always and Altaїr enjoyed this moment of peace and quietude. He never apologized for the way he had treated Malik three days ago and Malik had not yet cared to force him to. After this charity event they had just went back to normal as if nothing at all had happened between them and that was exactly how it had always been between them. Malik had never held a grudge against him for all too long. This time however Altaїr was positive that it was only because Malik knew exactly that Altaїr knew he had been right from the start.

"Well, she told me her darkest secret I guess. Why should I not trust her after this confession?" Of course, this would be naïve to believe and he wanted to hear it from Malik. He wanted to hear from him how dumb it was to trust a woman solely because she told him a secret like this, assuming it was true at all.

"She could have tried to trick you into admitting your own homosexuality." – "You sound old when you say it like that." Malik only briefly snapped his fingers against his forehead for the unruly interruption. In here, they were not King and Guardian, they were Altaїr and Malik, they were friends. "Perhaps she knows about the rumors saying that you are gay and thus she tried to get you to open up in telling you that she is also gay. Do not forget that we do not have any proof of this claim she made. Maybe she tried to get information out of you with which she could blackmail you."

"Yes she could have." Altaїr sighed. "I agree. However, I did not tell her anything about myself and I felt as if her words were earnest. Of course, the possibility still holds true, that she could try to use me and I am quite sure that she in fact is using me, but I doubt that she wants to blackmail me. I think she was being honest when she told me about her fiancé Robert and that she simply wants to get away from him – and if that’s how she's going to use me, that’s okay with me."

"You like her, don’t you?" Was there jealousy in Malik's tone? When Altaїr opened his eyes again to look at Malik, he could not really determine if he was jealous or not. They were not a couple. They were no lovers, not like Maria and her Annabelle. For now, they were only accomplices. They needed to spend their lives together whether they liked it or not, so why not make the best of it? Why not having sex without regrets? They never spoke about their feelings for one another and as far as Altaїr was concerned, Malik had no feeling towards him and he had no feelings towards Malik, simply because having feelings would be most dangerous for them. It would dull their ability to judge and they both could not afford that. Yet he felt lonely when Malik was not by his side.

"I think she could be a great ally. I like the way she thinks and I believe that she learned quite a lot from her father when it comes to politics. At least she could be a far better ally than all those women lying piled up on my desk still." He huffed.

"Her fiancé will not like this and I guess your council still has not agreed to this situation, am I right?"

"I don’t care what my council agrees to or not. I think I made it unmistakably clear, that I can replace them with people I can trust more than them any time I like. It is my decision to make and I made this decision. Now everything there is to wait for is, that Maria will tell the news to her family and to her fiancé. Of course, this Robert will not be glad to hear the news, but what can he do?"

"He could force his _buddies_ to stop trading goods with Masyaf. I think you are aware that he is a good friend of our supporters in France."

"I am aware of this in fact. And I have already pulled a few strings myself." Faintly he felt Malik's fingers brushing through his short hair, after he had closed his eyes again. He did not really care why Malik did this, nor would he ask him. All he could think of was that they were no lovers and yet he could not get rid of this stupid song from _Moulin Rouge_ in his head.

"So do I need to worry that you will strangle yourself to death with those strings?" Malik asked quietly, but a knock from the door to Altaїr's chambers made Malik go stiff as a board again, though not in the way Altaїr would approve of.

"Who's that? It's already almost midnight. I'm done for today!" Altaїr sighed but just slid down deeper into the water until only his head was visible above the bubbles. Since the incident in the well all those years ago, he had never been really fond of water and even before that, he had not liked it, however the last attack on him when this man tried to drown him had made his fear all the more worse. It was only thanks to Malik that he was quite relaxed, for nothing could harm him as long as Malik was with him.

"Well you are the king, so naturally you are never done ruling." Malik replied with a faint smirk before he got up and made his way towards the bathroom door before Altaїr could protest. He did not protest anyway, instead Altaїr almost jumped out of the tub as if he suddenly got an electric shock from the water.

"You can't-" He began but stopped himself immediately when Malik turned around surprise written all over his stupid handsome face and Altaїr casted his eyes down to the tiles. He did not want Malik to see how much he panicked right in that moment. It was ridiculous. It was stupid. Water could not hurt him, right? Still Altaїr grabbed his towel and wrapped it around his hips before he slumped down on the rim of the bathtub. He knew that Malik had seen the jolt of panic and utter horror in his eyes as Altaїr had cried out for him, but he did not say anything. Surely Malik would know how he felt, how weak and small and ridiculous he suddenly felt.

"I'll try to shoo them away whoever it is." Malik promised his voice suddenly a bit softer than before and Altaїr hated it. He did not like being that weak little princeling. He did not like being pampered by his bodyguard. He did not like being treated as if he was made of glass. This panic of his was his problem alone and he needed to deal with this _alone_. He nodded sharply, but only clenched his jaw, while his fingers grabbed the rim of the tub so hard is knuckles turned white. His stomach felt as if it was turning, his heart was racing and it had never been harder getting air into his lungs. He needed to breathe and he needed to calm down. Nothing could harm him as long as Malik was around and Malik would not leave him alone surely. He could hear him walking through the lounge, heard his steps on the parquet, heard him opening the door and then a short muffled conversation. He closed his eyes and tried not to think about what had happened to him in this very room or in that well so many years ago, only to concentrate on Malik's voice and the noises around him.

"Your majesty I need to speak to you urgently!" He was startled yet again by the booming voice of the man barging into the bathroom as if it meant nothing and as if he was not suddenly invading the king's privacy. He was startled so much in fact, that he almost fell backwards into the tub again.

"I told you his majesty is not available!" Malik hissed angrily as he came after the man. The intruder was a member from his council, a man with darker skin than his, with a wild black beard and even wilder black hair. Yusuf Tazim was the only Turk they had on their council and maybe the only one he liked beside Al Mualim. He was a man with warm brown eyes and an even warmer heart and for now, he had never done anything to let Altaїr believe that he would not be on his side – though he also had never done anything that would let him believe he was.

"I am sorry, your majesty!" Yusuf exclaimed when he found the king sitting almost naked on the rim of his tub, his skin still wet from the water after he just jumped out of the tub and water had splashed all over the tiles too, forming little puddles. As a child he had even tried to avoid stepping into puddles after he had almost drowned, as an adult he … well, he would avoid it surely. "But this matter cannot wait until morning I am afraid."

Altaїr cleared his throat and finally let out the breath he had not even registered he was holding, before he slowly rose from the rim of the tub even though his legs felt weak and shaky. "What's wrong?" He asked, because of course there was something wrong. Of course, something had happened again, of course, his life could not just be peaceful at least for this night.

"Your majesty" Yusuf sighed and stepped closer an edition of the local newspaper in his hand. It was the evening edition for today and Altaїr had not yet read it, though of course he always tried to keep being updated. "Apparently someone has already told the press about your engagement with Miss Thorpe, it is all over the news already." He explained and there, on the front page, was a photo of him and Maria talking to each other during the charity event a few days ago. Maria had just laid her delicate hand at his upper arm, a gesture of friendship to Altaїr, but something entirely different to every onlooker as it seemed now. On the picture he was smiling at her, but the headline were a bit less romantic. It titled as _English Noble seducing the King_ and he did not even need to read more about the article to know what would follow a headline such as this.

Altaїr clenched his fist around the newspaper after Yusuf gave it to him, but Malik had already switched on his TV and Altaїr followed the noise, still wet and still only wearing his towel. It really was all over the late night news. There were photos being shown of Maria obviously taken by paparazzi in London and photos and short clips of Altaїr. Well, at least they had not decided on using his old tapes again and thus depicting him as a punk ass teenager. "How the hell did that happen?" He growled.

"Maybe Miss Thorpe told the press." Yusuf suggested, while Malik obviously tried his best to stay out of this situation. He was a mere servant and those were matters not concerning his opinion as a bodyguard.

"No I don’t believe she would do something as reckless as this!" Altaїr huffed. For a moment, he had no clue if he should feel angry, surprised, or disappointed. He had no clue what he should feel at all.

"But your majesty-"

"No, Yusuf, she has too much to lose herself when she would go to the press with news like these, she would have never betrayed me in such a fashion!" Perhaps she did not even know that they had been outed already. Perhaps he was really just being naïve and perhaps she was counting on his instinct to come to her aide. However what if all of this was not the case? What if he was not just being naïve about this situation? What if she was in danger now? What about her family? He needed to make sure that she was safe. Perhaps he could get his Uncle Haytham to help.

"Then who else could have told the press?" Yusuf pressed on and maybe he was thinking the same things Altaїr just decided to brush off.

"I don’t know." Altaїr sighed. "I only told this to my council and Maria promised me not to tell anyone, until she would hear back from me. She is, after all, actually engaged to a French noble and her family will not be pleased to hear from this new arrangement."

It turned out her fiancé was not too happy either. During the next few days, Altaїr received bad news after bad news from absolutely everywhere. His still quite not official engagement to Maria Thorpe was all over the place. Even his cousin Desmond called him at one point to ask if the news were true, while his cousin Ezio had sent him a voice message laughing his little ass off and shouting something along the lines of _"Leonardo you own me hundred bucks!"_. Apparently, his family already expected that Altaїr would get into trouble like this and he too was not at all too surprised this happened. His business partners in France and England however, seemed to be quite surprised and unpleasantly so too.

It took only two days until Masyaf's trading partners in France ended their business relationship. Of course, they found a few elegant ways to phrase their reasons for this break up, but it was clear to everyone involved that it was because of Altaїr's still unofficial engagement to Maria. Thy talked about conditions that had changed, the situation with the local farmers while in reality they meant that it was because of the de Sable family intervening. It was a close knitted system they were dealing with and Altaїr knew this, gladly he had a few aces up his sleeve.

Sadly, his council did not yet know that and Altaїr still was a bit unsure if he should reveal his trump, when he stared into the grey faces of the men sitting at the round table, while outside the windows rain was pouring from the grey sky. All of their faces were covered in deep worry lines, while they were staring at him, Altaїr however leant back in his chair and crossed his legs. This morning he had put all of his piercings back into place and he did not care for this advisors staring at them in disgust. They belonged to him just as well as his tattoos. Maybe he got a few of them when he had been too drunk to make an informed decision on that, but he still stood behind those decisions. This was him. Moreover, it was about time to drop the mask and be himself, because otherwise he would never be able to rule the way his father or grandmother would have wanted him to rule.

"Our business partners in Britain too declared, that they are about to end the contract with Masyaf, for it would needed to be renewed anyway next month. Until then they will keep delivering us with the goods according to the contract." Yusuf Tazim finally stated to break the silence just after the first news of France _breaking up_ with them had been discussed.

"That was to be expected." Altaїr sighed.

"Your majesty" Ahmad Sofian raised his voice at him, while his son looked as if he was about to explode again. Oh, he hated Altaїr's guts there was no way in denying that fact right in that moment. If he could, he would slit his throat right here and yet Altaїr tried to think of what Al Mualim told him a while ago. "It appears as if you do not fully understand the severity of this problem. After you cut the partnerships with our Syrian partners for this deal with the local farmers you set up, France and England were the only trading partners we had to keep our economy at least somewhat stable. When they are now ending this partnership too, we cannot uphold our own economy and our local farmers are already struggling due to the troubles they lately had with their crops and their animals."

Altaїr felt pleasantly calm, even now that he needed to face Ahmad Sofian and his pit like eyes. He waited for him to stumble so he could take control. Maybe they even wanted that the people of Masyaf started rebelling against their king so they, the Sofians, could throw their hat in the ring. "Well actually I do understand the severity of this situation." Altaїr replied and gestured to his first secretary who always joined this round to take notes for the minutes. Hastily his secretary gave him the binder Altaїr gave him before the meeting. "That is why I already took action in this matter."

"Actions?" The scruffy bear-like figure (Corban was his name actually) asked and raised one brow. Obviously, no one at this table trusted their young king to take matters into his own hands.

"Actions, yes. You see, I was living abroad for seven years and gladly I used this time not only to party and fool around or to shoot holes into my body, but also to come into contact with many influential people, such as my extended family in Italy, America and England, but of course, you all are aware of this fact. Gladly it turned out that my families have tightly knitted relationships to other influential people and families."

"What does that have to do with any of our problems?" Abbas growled. He and his family prided themselves on the fact that their family was only consistent of Arabs. His mother was from Iraq for example and never had they included any European (or worse American) in their family tree. Maybe that was the reason why their skin tended to be so much darker (darker even than Malik's and Kadar's skin) in comparison to Altaїr's family. They had quite a few European ancestors and they had always been open to new things and change.

"Well you see, I called a few of my relatives this morning and it turned out they knew quite a few companies that would be excellent trading partners for our local businesses." Altaїr explained calmly, fully aware of the fact that those men had not expected something like this from him.

"Then why did your father or grandmother never make those deals with these companies?"

"Mainly because the council prevented them from doing so and because it would have been against the contracts we had with those other companies from France and England. Now that we are not bound by those old contracts any longer, we can expand our business partnerships to Italy, America and even Great Britain again. Furthermore, now we could be able to negotiate better terms for those contracts, which would hopefully mean a rise in our own economy again. Maybe we could even negotiate terms for our local farmers with them."

With that, he opened the folder and shoved it over the table towards Al Mualim, motioning him to pass it on as soon as he was done. In there he had already collected all the details he already got from his families. Of course, the members of his council were flabbergasted that their king had indeed taken matters into his own hands. "Moving on to another topic I wanted to discuss today." Altaїr then raised his voice yet again. "This council needs a reboot." He did not even wait for the shocked gasps and affronted comments. "The decisions this council makes would have been already seen as old-fashioned a hundred years ago. I know my grandfather wanted to change it when he had been crowned king but I am also quite aware of the fact that this council has a long tradition in the way its members are joining. All of us are the descendants of the very first council and though this might be a nice thing to have I believe that it is not very progressive in its work."

Again, there was silence – apart from the outraged murmuring. The only person that was seemingly calm was Al Mualim when he passed on the binder. "What are you proposing my king?"

"We need to refresh this council. I wouldn’t want to throw out some of the old members, for I see the accomplishments of this council in the past too, but I would propose adding new members to this table."

Adding new members to a council as old as this one was surely nothing the old members approved of, because the old men (and Abbas) were all afraid to lose their saying in the matters concerning Masyaf's politics and rightly so. Altaїr was tired of being held back by them.

"Who do you propose adding to this council, your majesty?" Yusuf asked and maybe he and Al Mualim were still the only ones who took the news not as a personal affront. Yusuf indeed seemed quite curious about this decision.

"I suggest adding Maria Thorpe to this council, because not only is she my fiancé and thus future queen of Masyaf, but also her family could be very important to this council if she is able to save her relationship with them, which was endangered by the latest leak. Just a quick side note here: Of course I already started an investigation to find out who is responsible for the press knowing about this connection I have to Miss Thorpe." The men in his council were outraged (with exception of Yusuf and Al Mualim, who both seemed quite excited, though it was not easy to tell with Al Mualim and his beard concealing every bit of emotion), their voices rising in anger. _A woman on this council! Could it be worse?_ Well, it could, Altaїr guessed, at least for them.

"Your majesty it is against our beliefs that a woman is part of a council like this! Your subjects will not approve of this!" Abbas hissed, his face red like a tomato.

"At least half of my subjects are women." Altaїr stated with a faint smirk. "And I do believe that at least they will be quite pleased to hear that we are including women in our council. Of course I know that this is against the believe system of this kingdom, but frankly I do not care what was written in a dusty old book a few thousand years ago. The women of Masyaf are working just as hard as the men and thus I say they should indeed have a saying when it comes to politics. However, I am not finished yet. I would like to include Azize Demir, Leonardo da Vinci and my good old friend Piri Reis."

So another woman and a gay man. He was sure Abbas would die from a heart attack any minute now. However, instead of the usual outcries there was silence, until Ahmad Sofian found his voice again. "Your majesty." He began as if talking to a petulant child. "You want to add two women to this council, one of them your future wife and a British citizen, one of them a Turkish noble." Yusuf cleared his throat. Azize was his niece, a bright young woman Altaїr already met a few times. She could stand her ground just as Maria. "And you also want to add an Italian painter without noble standing who is also gay, just as well as you want to add a man with a very questionable background."

"That is indeed correct, a British woman, a Turkish woman, a gay Italian painter and a man whose ancestors apparently had been pirates." Altaїr concluded. As a child he had stood in awe when he had heard the tales of the pirates of Piri's family, though now as an _adult_ he was not quite sure if he in fact had been telling the truth. He had not seen Piri for a long time now, but of course, he had already contacted him in this matter. Now he only needed to wait.

"This is madness." The bear-like man (Corban) stated with a deep sigh, but it seemed not as if he wanted to protest really.

"This is the twenty-first century, gentlemen."

●●●●●●●●●

It was loud and it was rowdy, but Kadar thought that this was only normal when a bunch of young teenage boys were stuffed into a school without girls. Kadar would like to state that he of course was one of the more disciplined students in this school and that he would never join those rowdy guys in his dorm making some ruckus in the halls for no apparent reason. However, he guessed, this would not really sound believable when he was just about to throw a paper cup at another boy' head. He did not do it though, mainly because another boy called for his attention. "Hey Kadar!" A boy - one of the older ones - called for him with sun kissed skin, jet-black hair and his heavy accent telling everyone immediately where he was from. Kadar jumped almost out of his skin when he was startled like this, but he did not let go of his holy cup, instead he just turned around slowly and looked at him, still standing halfway in his own room while the rest of his body (the upper half) was leaning out the door. This was not his fight anyway.

"Yesh?" He mumbled, his mouth still full with a bite of unchewed cup noodles waiting behind him to be devoured fully. However, since he had not been able to understand anything of the movie he was watching on Netflix even though he had been wearing headphones while lounging comfortably on his bed, he had decided to intervene in that glorious hallway war. He did not even know what was going on really. The other boy made a slightly concerned face, but he had never seen him looking differently - this was something he had in common with Kadar's own big brother. "What's wrong Henry?"

 _Henry_ made a slight grimace and Kadar knew why immediately. "I told you not to call me Henry. My name is-"

"I know your name." Kadar chuckled before he stepped out of his room and onto the hallway. His brother would say it was not polite talking to another human being leaning half out of one's door. "Sorry Jayadeep, but Henry is so much easier to pronounce." Jayadeep (Henry or whatever) sighed but then just shrugged his shoulders.

"It's about your home country. You are from Masyaf right?"

His first instinct was to be worried about his brother and mother - about his home! However, he was sure he would have already heard about it if something serious had happened. "Yes that’s right. Has something happened?" Kadar stepped closer towards Henry who lived a few doors down the hallway, however Henry retreated to his room, before he reappeared with a newspaper in his hands.

"Well, is it true?" Henry carefully asked and showed him the newspaper.

"Is what true?" Kadar asked, but before Henry could answer him, Kadar spotted the headline on the page Henry showed to him.

"I mean, is it true, that your king is gay and takes drugs?" This time Kadar nearly choked on the remaining cup noodles he had still in his mouth, when a wet sponge hit the back of his head.


	12. Consequences - or: the time Desmond Miles came out of the closet

_The young prince had always had a habit of getting into trouble and every inhabitant of the castle towering over Masyaf knew that pretty well. This was the main reason why the prince always needed to be watched, though young Altaїr had a remarkable talent to escape his nannies or sneak out of a room without anyone noticing it. This was especially remarkable considering the fact, that he was only three years old and hardly even able to maneuver around on his short wobbly legs._

_At first, Altaїr had been a quite lovely child, even Faheem's wife always explained her fondness of the little monarch, whenever Faheem came to her with him. He had been very cute with his fat arms and legs and his always rosy cheeks. However, he had hardly moved at all during that time anyway. Back then he had just lied around sleepily most of the time and with his drowsy brown eyes he had managed to woo all the maids and nannies in the castle. Oh, they had loved him. Even the most stoic of the staff had melted away, hearing him gurgling or giggling in joy and his sneezes were the cutest Faheem had ever heard (with exception of his own son of course) in his life. What a nice thing to remember. Oh, what wonderful times._

_"So I reckon he got away again?" Faheem grinned, as he entered the King's office. His own son was helping his mother in the kitchen, though he should take care of his homework instead._

_"We should just chain him to his bed." Umar snorted clearly annoyed by his son's ridiculous behavior. It was quite obvious that Umar had no clue why his son was behaving in such a fashion anyway. "I don’t understand this, Faheem. Your son never did this! Malik was a good kid and he always did what he was being told. Why can't Altaїr be more like him? He always gets into trouble and he is only three years old! How does he even manage this? It’s a miracle he has not yet broken a bone or his neck even! I don’t want to even think about the troubles he will get into when he is older! Just imagine him being a teenager!"_

_With a faint sigh Faheem came closer to his friend's desk and rested his hands upon the wood of the table top. "Well, you see, he is much calmer and relaxed when he is with you."_

_Umar looked at him as if he had just lost his mind and lowered the paperwork he had just been reading. "What do you mean?"_

_"I mean that Altaїr never tried to run away or do something stupid, when he was with you. I believe he just wants to get your attention with all the trouble he is making. Let's go search for him together. He cannot have gone far, I assume, after all, the staircase is frightening him."_

_"It does?" Faheem would not ponder about the fact that Altaїr's own father did not know that about his baby son._

_"He thinks there is a ghost living in the closet underneath the staircase."_

_It turned out finding a three year old child was much harder than Faheem originally expected even though they just needed to search for the boy on this floor of the castle. That should make it easier, but it did not. It took them almost an hour (an hour of Umar complaining), until finally they found the boy. Altaїr was lying face down on a table in one of the smaller dining rooms, crumps of dried paint in his hair and blotches of colorful dried paints all over his clothes and skin. He was fast asleep, but they did not need Sherlock Holmes to solve the mystery of the paint stained child on the dining table, for Altaїr left traces along the walls and floorboards. Apparently, he had found his mother's old drawing room and the paints still in there and thought himself to be an artist too. Well, the stains he left absolutely everywhere surely was artistic, but his father was foaming with anger truly._

_"The door was locked! How did he even manage to get in there?" He sighed as he stepped closer to the sleeping boy who had apparently thought the dining table to be the most appropriate spot to fall asleep. Faheem tried his best not to ponder about how the child even managed to get up there without help._

_"Just look at it that way: Your three year old son is already cleverer than some of the staff members." Faheem laughed as he poked the sleeping prince, but Altaїr only gave a muffled response. Surely, he would not wake up until supper after this little adventure of his._

_"He will ruin this kingdom. I can already see it happening, Faheem. He will ruin this kingdom! And who is going to marry such a catastrophe? How is this family supposed to continue with a leader such as him?" Umar sighed as he fell down on one of the chairs, but Faheem only laughed a little bit louder, for Umar seemed to forget all the troubles he himself had caused this kingdom and his poor mother before._

_History will always find a way to repeat itself, he assumed._

●●●●●●●●●

He had known from the start that this event in his life, this _shadow_ that he himself had conjured up years ago, would follow him around for a big part of his life at least, and that it would bite him in the ass the moment he would at least expect it. It would be a blatant lie if he would have stated that he had not known this. One might argue, he was a bit naïve in his new role as a leader, of course, and Altaїr would gladly support this argument, but he surely was not stupid enough to not know that his actions of the past would have consequences at some point in his life. And now he was at a point in his very young life, where he did not know what he could do or say, because the past had finally found its way to sneak up on him, just when he thought he had surpassed the worst.

It would be false and ignorant to say he had not done stupid things and that he had made any mistakes, many of them on purpose even. He had wanted to make trouble, to provoke the entire world if necessary. He had caused chaos just for chaos's sake. He had rebelled against absolutely everything his kingdom, his religion and his people stood for, only because he had not wanted to give up his freedom and now, that he finally begun to understand his new role as a king, this one night, this one incident came back at him with all its might.

"They are besieging the castle." Malik's voice was like swarm of bees, a silent, gentle hum somewhere in the world outside of his head. He still sat on his bed, his head rested in his hand, his fingers clawing at his hair in a way that the ends were sticking out through the gaps between his fingers. This was insane. Well, was it? Was it really? Was the situation insane or he? Maybe it was him. Maybe he had been insane and unfit to rule from the very start. Maybe he was going to be insane. Maybe he was going to lose his mind. Maybe he already had. "Those cockroaches. As if you are going to go down there and talk to them! As if you would admit to all those stupid allegations!"

Altaїr was silent. It took him a moment, until he found the strength to finally lower his hands and raise his chin, only so he could look at Malik. Outside it was not even yet light and yet the dooms day had hit Masyaf Castle. The sky was still dark, the sun had not yet awoken. Still, he could almost hear them, he could almost see the gloom of their camera lights like burning torches, and how they were standing in front the castle's gates, lurking, preying on him, besieging the castle. Poor Rauf in his little shed. He was right there at the sharp end. Though it was dark, Malik stood at the window and was staring outside, but turned his body towards him, as he recognized the small shift in movement from the bed. Altaїr had no clue what his own face looked like, but the way Malik's facial expression shifted from anger to something else entirely, told him that he looked like a mess. Maybe his face told of the things he suppressed and were not able to phrase still, even after two years.

The way Malik set his jaw made it very clear to him, that he was busted. He could no longer hold back what was on his mind, as it seemed and maybe Malik already knew him all too well to even try. He could hear the TV running in his lounge, though the door between lounge and bedroom was closed firmly. Still he heard the loud, shrill voices of the chatting news broadcasters blabbering about the latest news and rumors they heard apparently straight out of the castle. A newspaper was lying on his bedroom floor, crumpled up to a ball, still Altaїr could see the picture on the front page. It was him, surrounded by a bunch of other men, snorting something that looked like cocaine at best. He would love to state that it was not him on this photograph - that it was but a mix-up, a coincidence that there was someone in the world who looked exactly as he did with sixteen - sadly it was him. It was his blue dyed hair and his stupid face. However, no matter how much he tried to work his brain, he could not remember the incident at all. All he did remember was the morning after.

"What did you do, Altaїr?" Malik asked in a low voice, but there was no accusation in his words, no angry tremor telling Altaїr about his rage for the king's stupid behavior two years ago, when he had been but a rebellious teenage boy. The bed shifted under Malik's weight, as his bodyguard sat down beside him. Darif was silently sitting on his new pole by the window, watching them with the utmost cautiousness, as if he was going to attack Malik if he was to hurt his mama bird. Rauf told him a few weeks ago with furrowed brow and a grimace of utter worry for the poor bird, that Darif was a girl. Altaїr did not care.

"I don’t know." And for once, that was the whole and entire truth of the situation. He did have no clue what he had done back then. He remembered the party he went to with his cousins Desmond and Connor, and how much he nagged and begged them to tag along, how exited he had been to visit a party like this, but that was it. The rest of the night was a blur of colors and noises and smells, and a part of him was glad that it was. He had gotten into a lot of trouble that night apparently. However that was nothing he wanted to talk about. He did not want to talk about the picture in the newspaper or the tapes that had appeared on the internet, as it seemed. Tapes of him having sex with a group of men he could not remember. Of course, already the first voices of his subjects had risen to dethrone the young king and stone him to death for his sodomy. They did not care if the allegations were indeed true and to Altaїr's luck, apparently those videotapes were of such bad quality that it was really hard to tell that it was indeed him. He himself knew of course - though he could not remember the act.

"What do I do now?" Altaїr asked into the silence of the room and he did not even know if he was directing the question at Malik or himself or the void inside the room. "I thought everything would be fine at last, but apparently it doesn’t matter what I do, the people of Masyaf hate me and they sue have every right to do so."

"They liked you, when you stole all that money from the high society during that charity event." Malik stated and though he did not like to admit that Altaїr's idea had been good back then, both of them knew it had been. "And most of them liked the idea of you marrying Maria Thorpe. Maybe if you would finally officially announce the engagement, they will calm down again."

"But isn't that a cheap way to bail me out of the situation? This will not be the last time such rumors or allegations will come up about me. And it is not just that new allegation, but the farmers are rioting too!" He could see Malik's hand grabbing for him, but before he could reach him, Altaїr jumped up from his bed and started pacing through the room. "I should not be king!" He finally blurted out, grabbing at his hair. "I should not be here! I am not ready to be king! I am not ready to rule an entire kingdom! How could anyone think I could be able to do this?" How could his grandma leave him behind in a situation like this? She was the only person who had known him best and now he was all alone with this burden that was dragging him down with every step as if he was walking through quicksand! She should have known that he would ruin the kingdom! It was April by now and he had only needed four months to ruin everything his ancestors had built up. "I should just-" He should just give the crown to Ahmad Sofian and hope he would be a better king and that he would maybe just let him go or exile him to Europe. "I never wanted to be king!" He then yelled.

Malik's steps, as he crossed the room, were quick and silent as the soft paws of a kitten, his grab however was hard as steel, as his hands closed themselves around Altaїr's upper arms to stop him not only in his pacing but to force him to stand still and look at him. His eyes were like pits in the faint light inside the bedroom. He would have expected a slap to come back to his senses, but instead firm lips pressed down on his, as he was trying to form words again.

The kiss was hard and rough and there was nothing enjoyable about it. Malik's teeth dug down onto his bottom lip hard, but not hard enough to draw blood. It was not as their kisses normally were, but Altaїr almost forgot how their kisses normally felt like. When was the last time they kissed anyway? He had been so wound up in meetings, paperwork, and important business, that he rarely had had time to spend alone with Malik and every time they had a moment to spend together, they had used it for training and exercising or they fell asleep side by side in Altaїr's bed or lounging on the sofa.

Right in that moment, when Altaїr wanted to meet Malik's desire in opening his mouth and luring his tongue inside (a most welcome distraction from the horror waiting outside his door), the kiss ended just as quickly as it started and he was slowly becoming aware of the fact, that Malik had not intended for him to play along. The kiss was the slap he had originally expected: short, hard and breathtaking, to bring him back to his senses and when it ended Malik still held onto his arms. "I'll tell you exactly what you should do, my _king_."

●●●●●●●●●

Desmond Miles had always known that he would someday need to face the consequences of his actions. This was, after all, a universal truth every human being with a working brain should indeed know. He had always known that every mistake he had made in his life would someday come back to him to bite him in the ass when he would least expect it to. He had known from the start, that the past had its very own way to sneak up on him to punch him right in the face. He had known that this shadow, he had conjured up two years ago, would someday need to be faced. It had been his job to look after his young cousin Altaїr, when he and Connor had taken him along to the party on the university's grounds. A party, Desmond Miles had insisted on going to. It had been his job, simply for he had allowed the boy to come along, while Connor had expressed his doubt about the situation. Thus, it had been partly his fault that something like this had had happened at all.

However, since he had been responsible, he had taken the punch of his father without complaint, though it nearly broke his nose, as it hit. He had taken the hit like a man for he had earned it like a child. It had been his fault, that Connor had found their baby cousin earlier that night in a puddle of his own vomit next to a toilet, passed out from the drugs and the alcohol he had consumed, half naked in that bathroom of the fraternity building. A sight neither of them would forget. When Connor had called him to help, he had thought his cousin was dead for sure. He had been white as a sheet and even now, two years after this incident, he could still see him behind closed eyelids. Gladly, miraculously, he had not been overdosed. Gladly, miraculously, he had survived. He had survived the drugs and the assault and when Altaїr woke up the next morning, he had not even recalled what had been done to him.

Maybe his bad conscience was the sole explanation why he did not even flinch, when the needle was pushed through his eyebrow. He had not even flinched before, when the needle had been pushed through his ears. He had never been one for piercings. He did not hate it; he thought piercings looked good on some people, but not exactly on him. Blue hair too was something that he never thought he would have in his life and yet, when he looked into the mirror he hardly recognized himself. Well, what does one do for their baby cousin who got himself in trouble?

"So do you really think this will help?" Connor's expression was stoic to say the least. His face did not look as grim as Desmond would have expected it to look, as he turned in front of the mirror. Desmond had never been like Connor. He had never been a goody two shoes. He had never been a good boy who would wear the clothes his parents wanted him to wear. He had always had his own head and did only what he wanted to do, but unlike his younger cousin, he had never been a punk too. Never been a rebel too. He had just done whatever he pleased to do and never cared much for the things other people did or even wanted him to do. He had never had craved blue hair or piercings though. This was Altaїr's kind of thing. Desmond however liked to stay as far away from needles as possible if not for medical reasoning.

"Well, let's hope it does, otherwise I will have inflicted pain on myself and got holes shot into my body for nothing." Desmond sighed deeply annoyed with the dark frown in his older cousin's stupid face.

"You could have just tried to use fake piercings, you know?" Connor stated not so very helpful, but Desmond snorted as he slowly got up from the chair.

"Of course I could have used fake ones, but it has to look as real as possible for god's sake." He groaned and ruffled through his freshly dyed hair. It was the very same shade of Altaїr's hair back when he had been sixteen and the piercings too looked exactly the same, Desmond made sure of that. The piercer had done a great job, though the young woman had been quite surprised when he came into her shop with a photo of his baby cousin and told her what he wanted, with a giant walking right behind him.

"Why are you even torturing yourself like this?" Connor asked and shortly grabbed his arm, as Desmond stumbled forward. He felt a bit lightheaded, as the piercer came with a can of coke for him. He could still recall how dizzy Altaїr had felt when he got his first piercing. It was not as if Desmond would have had supported this, but he had been too late to prevent it from happening too. Poor boy had been stumbling out of the tattoo parlor like Bambi himself coming straight out of that movie.

"Because it's my fault that he is in trouble now of course! If I would have taken my job more seriously and would have looked after him, as I should have, those photos would not even exist! And if that means that people will now think that I am a gay drug user, then so be it. My family knows the truth and that is indeed all that matters to me."

For once Connor Kenway was silent, while Desmond was sipping his coke. It was not as though Desmond would have a helper syndrome or a Samaritan complex, which made him do this. That was Connor's kind of thing. He would have not done this if it was not his fault too and if he would not look so much alike to Altaїr. He now needed to atone for his past mistakes and if that meant he needed to run around with blue hair, piercings and acting as though he was gay to help his cousin to soothe his subjects, than he would gladly do it.

●●●●●●●●●

Maria was used to the fact that absolutely everything that concerned her personal life was family business. This simply was how it worked in families such as hers. There was no such thing as a private life for a young noble woman like her. Therefore, it came as no surprise that she would find herself in exactly this situation now, sitting at the large round table in her family home in Leicester. The old stone walls of their family home told stories and tales of long forgotten times, while a fire was softly crackling in the ancient fireplace behind her father's chair. The _House Thorpe_ became a synonym for the building just as well as the family living in it and the manor itself, just as the family, survived two world wars and many of the very own British family feuds that had occurred in the history of this great country. On rainy afternoons Maria would have been able to fight her boredom in tracing their family back to the war of the roses, if not even farther. The outside of their little mansion was made out of all the different stones someone had used when there had been yet another attack on the noble house of the Thorpes. It was a rag rug of history, quite like Masyaf Castle, Maria briefly thought, but unlike Masyaf Castle, there was no life in this place, no love, no laughter. Only silence ruled her family home, no matter how many people were living here or roaming the halls constantly. This place was empty and deprived of anything that would resemble life and energy at all.

In here, she could only feel the ghosts of past generations, all of them making the very same mistakes over and over and over again. There was only bitterness and coldness; and her father was the living, breathing example of those very feelings now that he stared at Maria directly across the table.

"I cannot take you serious in that matter, Maria." Her father stated, his voice low and bare of every bit of emotion he might felt deep inside for his daughter and the current state of affairs. Surely, he was angry, surely, he was furious, but he was not showing it, just as her mother. It was not very British to show any kind of emotional outburst. She learned that very early on as a child, however Maria had never been one to follow the rules and sometimes, as a child, she had wondered if her mother was even a human being. While her father showed at least his anger from time to time, her mother had always been more like a robot and Maria had hated this. She had done anything in her power to provoke any kind of emotion from her mother, but it never worked, she had never looked at Maria, never showed any love for her only child. Her father on the other hand, had been furious that she was indeed a girl and that his wife would not give him another child, a son perhaps. So naturally, Maria felt little contempt for those two and even littler fright to leave this place once and for all.

"Please be more precise, father." Maria replied quietly as she leant back into her chair. "After all, it appears as if absolutely anything I do or say displeases you nowadays." Annabelle was somewhere around the house of course and Maria was thankful that she was still well.

"Of course, I speak about your engagement with the young king of Masyaf for which you just ended your relationship with Robert. Not to mention that this _person_ had not even asked me before discussing the matter with you." Robert too sat at this table, at her father's side and of course, his own father too was present. Maria felt as if she was sitting in front of a judge. There was no one sitting on her side of the table, but that was exactly what she had expected as the first rumors had been published in the news. Still, she had no idea who had been telling the media about her and Altaїr's engagement so quickly. It had not been her, that was for sure, because it had only caused her more and more trouble. Trouble she would have liked to disclaim.

"I apologize if I caused any harm. It was not my intention to hurt Roberts's _feelings_." She stated with a sly smile, because she knew exactly how much pride a man such as Robert possessed and how weak and narcissistic he really was. "But there is no such thing as a relationship between us. There never was and there never will be."

"You were engaged." Monsieur de Sable (Roberts's father) hissed.

"I love Altaїr." She stated and it was not even a lie, or at least it did not feel as though she was lying. She liked him greatly. She liked him when he was a bratty child in the gardens of this old fortress she could torment and she liked him even more now.

"Still you had a contract. You and your family have made this contract years ago." Her father seemed ashamed in front of his long term business partner, but Maria only raised her chin.

"This contract has been made without my legal agreement."

"You did agree!" Her father finally shouted and Maria did not even flinch.

"I was thirteen and thus of no legal right to agree to such a contract and thus I do have no legal obligation to fulfill it. I will not make the very same mistake my mother made, when she was forced to marry you, father. We are living in the twenty first century and not in medieval times anymore no matter how much men like you would like that. I love Altaїr and I am going to marry him indeed. We are going to make the official announcement soon and there is nothing you could do about it for I am no property of yours." She spared her mother not a single glance, for what would it matter anyway? Her mother had resigned long ago. She never told Maria about the way she came to the decision of marrying Maria's father, but for Maria it was quite obvious that this was no decision of her own.

"We raised you! You owe us a little more respect!" Her father blurted not so very British, while her mother put a soothing hand on his underarm – to no avail of course. It was no gesture of love or affection, only one more part of the show.

"I owe you nothing! You did not raise me, my nannies did. You never showed me any kind of love or respect so why shouldn’t I return that favor now? Maybe things would be different now, if you two would have been my _parents_ instead of my jailors." With that Maria rose from the table and she had never felt more powerful as in that moment, mainly because she knew exactly that everything for a great escape was already settled and in motion. The cogwheels were turning and she only needed to act upon it. "And since I believe you will now declare that of this moment you have no daughter and throw me out of this house anyway, I will take this inconvenience from you. I will go on my own and as of this moment I don’t have parents and I will no longer be a member of this family."

She did not wait for any reaction of her parents, as she turned and left the great hall of her family home. It was the last time she would ever see it and this knowledge filled her whole body. She wanted to say she felt sorrow for leaving her family home and all those familiar corners and ghosts roaming the halls, but she did not. Yet, a part of her felt as if the spirits lingering about were cheering her on. Oh, generations of wasted potential! Generations living in agony only for fulfilling what they were supposed to do! She had never felt as relieved as now as she left through the large door and saw Annabelle waiting for her outside, her fawn colored hair shimmering like gold in the light of the slowly sinking sun, while her suitcases and other belongings were already taken out of the home and into one of the black cars that were waiting for Maria like the pumpkin carriage in Cinderella. The Kenways were on point as always.

●●●●●●●●●

Altaїr could only be grateful, that he had such loyal relatives. He could only consider himself as blessed, that he had a cousin who spontaneously decided to dye his hair blue and even got piercings as if it meant nothing. At least he had not decided on getting the very same tattoos as Altaїr too, but Altaїr would have not put it past his cousin to do exactly that. The photos came as a surprise to him too, as they were published in the local newspapers. His own cousin Desmond, who normally was so shy when it came to media and cameras, looking straight at him from the front page of one local gossip magazine, titling as _the king's evil twin_.

"He really took the blame." Altaїr sighed as he ruffled through his short brown hair and for once did not know what to do or think about this whole situation. It turned out the people of his country where easy to distract, when something like this happened. Yesterday, the whole city had been in uproar. There had been riots in the streets, people fighting about those rumors of their king being gay. There had been two opposing forces: the ones who desperately believed in their king and his innocence in all this and the ones who absolutely detested their king and his ways. There had been damages on properties, buildings and shops during the night. People had gotten hurt and the news had covered the whole situation vividly. One news anchor even reported that some of the men fighting in Altaїr's name against his opponents were indeed gay and trying to cause some kind of revolution in the little Islamic kingdom.

Altaїr thought that this was hardly believable but on the same instant not all too farfetched, he guessed. Surely there were more gay men and women than he and Malik in this big town and surely some of them even thought they would be liberated if they had indeed a gay king. He felt somewhat guilty for crushing their hopes in being liberated and accepted, though he knew that, even if he would legalize homosexuality that would not cause acceptance among the people. After all he was indeed gay and he could indeed help his fellow gays. He could help all those men and women in the city who were forced to live double lives. And yet his cousin Desmond took the blame for Altaїr's past mistakes. He played the gay, blue haired, pierced cousin which had been mistaken for Altaїr in the media. And he did a really good job.

When Malik was about to switch off the TV in Altaїr's lounge the young king stopped him briefly, if only because right in the moment when Altaїr put down the newspaper, the morning magazine showed the scenery in front of his cousin's house in New York. He felt guilty and ashamed that Desmond took all this upon himself. His house was surrounded – yes besieged – by paparazzi, reporters and cameras only because he was the cousin of the king of Masyaf and looked so much alike him.

Desmond had always lived a quiet life and he had liked it like that. He had never been an attention seeking asshole as Altaїr or Ezio were and Altaїr had respected this decision, though up until now he had not understood it. He was simply Desmond and that was about it. Now he was suddenly the target of the media, suddenly falsely outed as gay to the whole world and all of this only because Desmond felt guilty for not protecting him two years ago. It was bloody insanity.

"Don’t worry; he is not even there anymore." Malik stated quietly when he laid his hand on Altaїr's left shoulder and pressed it lightly. "Your secretary informed me that he got an Email of Connor Kenway, saying that he took Desmond to London until everything is back to normal." So his cousin would need to keep a low profile in Connor's house. He would not be able to even leave the house as long as people would remember his face and that could of course take quite a while. Altaїr knew that perfectly well himself. It was not right, but what other choice did he really have? He could of course not come out as gay himself. He could not tell the world who he really was. He could not protect his cousin from the onslaught. He could only stay put and wait. At least Desmond and his own family probably knew the truth, but that also meant, that his aunt and probably the entire rest of his family knew, that it was not Desmond but him who was gay. He would have expected Ezio to call him right away because of the situation, but he did not. To him it came surely as a shock, no matter which of his cousins was the gay one. Connor one the other hand – Well – he had been there, had scooped him up from the dirty floor of the toilet. Connor knew. There was no other way. Up until this point Altaїr had had no clue what had happened during that night. Now he did. And that also meant that his cousins knew for quite a while too.

Altaїr felt as if he was stumbling into an abyss of nothingness. He felt light headed and dizzy, but Malik helped him to regain his balance when he gently pressed a light kiss on the nape of his neck. "Why did he even do it?" Malik whispered near his ear and Altaїr could not help but lean back a bit. Sitting was no option at the moment. He had tried to, but he always jumped up again and again every time Desmond's name had been said on the news. By now Malik seemed a bit tired of this ridiculous behavior. He should be happy that this problem was no longer needed to be faced. He should be glad, that his cousin took this bullet for him, yet he was not. Maybe it was the silent wish to be outed and seen as the man he truly was.

"Because he felt as if he was at fault that I slept with all those guys that night. He should have looked after me, but he didn’t. But it was not his fault, it was mine. I managed to escape him and Connor after all and I got myself into trouble again." Altaїr murmured when he silently walked towards the big windows of his lounge again to overlook the gardens. Sometimes he wished to be back when he was only four years old, running around the castle every time he slipped out of his room without his nanny noticing. He would love to go back to a time when everything had been so much easier. "Funny, I couldn’t even remember that night. I always thought my families would not know about me being gay. They never showed that they knew, but I still remember waking up in my room at the Miles' house. They all had been so worried for me, even Uncle Bill. I got wasted, took drugs and they were worried for me. Back then, I didn’t even remember that I hooked up with those guys, let alone that they filmed it."

"You did not look like you were _engaging_ in this activity." Malik finally broke his silence but kept his ground and distance from Altaїr. "You seemed quite high in that video."

"Apparently I was." Altaїr sighed. "Connor told me I almost overdosed. Can you imagine Abbas's joy if I had? What a glorious ending to this family! The last descendant of the founder of this dynasty, died after having a gangbang on a dirty toilet suffocating on his own vomit. Yes, that would have been fitting for my life. I do not need anyone else to kill me; I would manage that just fine on my own." He was angry. He was furious. His fists were shaking, his breath hitched and he could hardly really focus on what he was saying or the view in front of him. The entire world seemed hidden behind a red hue. Only Malik was surrounded by a soothing blue light. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have acted so reckless?

"So then I will need to protect you from yourself too?" Malik asked and slowly came closer towards him, before he grabbed him again and pulled him into his arms without questioning his consent. Altaїr was too exhausted to fight back anyway. He had not slept at all since all this started and only wanted to crash down on his mattress to sleep. Instead, he wound his arms around Malik's waist and leant his forehead against his shoulder, breathing in heavily and letting out a deep huff of air. "Well, that’s hardly new I guess. But I do think I deserve a pay raise for this extra work." He almost managed to get a little smirk from Altaїr with those words, but the young king tried only to concentrate on the smell of his bodyguard who had not yet taken his shower. He tried to concentrate on the feeling of his strong arms around Altaїr's back, the way his fingers were clenched in his black T-Shirt, which he wore for sleeping. He tried to focus on the feeling of Malik's stubbles when Altaїr would move his head a bit so his cheek would slightly brush Malik's jawline. "However, you should look at this situation from another point of view" His voice was a low hum, a slight tremor close to Altaїr's ear. "Your family really loves you as it seems, otherwise they would not all just play along. They support you, thus you have great allies on your side. You have them and you have Maria and of course the Al-Sayfs, though you should watch your step around my mother. I've heard she wanted to spank you for misbehaving all the time."

"So did you hear that from your mother?" Altaїr finally managed to ask.

"Maybe."

It turned out Mrs. Al-Sayf stood behind her word. The next time Altaїr met her by chance as he sneaked into the kitchen to steal some chocolate, he got smacked on the bum by her. Some might argue he got smacked on the bum by her because he tried to steal the entire packet of dark chocolate in the middle of the night, which she herself preferred to use for making cakes or other desserts, but Altaїr knew the truth and from that night onwards he did not dare to set foot into the kitchen again.

It took almost one month until the whole situation toned down a bit and yet Altaїr barely had time to contact Desmond to thank him. However, Maria later told him that Desmond was quite alright in the Kenway house in London, when she arrived at Masyaf with her entourage. It was only natural that Maria's arrival in Masyaf attracted a lot of attention. By now the news about Altaїr renovation of his council were a well-known fact and while the women were cheering about his decision to include two women in his council, some of the men were even angrier than before as they thought Altaїr was gay. They rather had a gay king then a woman on their king's council.

Of course, he would have loved to say that everything was better now that Desmond took the blame and Maria would reside in the castle, whenever she did not need to be in England, but it was not. There were still riots in the town and Altaїr could hardly do anything about it. Still it was unclear who informed the media about the sex-tape or supported them with those photos of him snorting some drug and while Altaїr tried to focus on what Al Mualim once told him about not judging the Sofians without good enough evidence it had never been harder.

By May he felt as if he had aged by twelve years in those past weeks. However, when he stood on the large balcony overlooking the crowded place in front of the castle with Maria by his side to announce their official engagement he felt somewhat at ease. Her hand clasping his, gave him more strength than he would have liked to admit and for once the crowd was cheering at him, as he stood there in full regalia with his beautiful fiancé by his side, waving at his people. Maria did her best to accommodate to his people's wishes. She looked absolutely stunning in her traditional Syrian attire, her dark hair framing her delicate pale face in soft waves. Her head garment was simplistic enough to not refer to a crown and the jewels she was wearing, though from her home, only added up to her beauty and made her bright blue eyes shine even more. His granny would have liked the way she stood beside him. He was sure she would have liked to see that and he was sure she would have liked Maria.

His people liked her, that was completely out of question during the following weeks.

"You look as if you are completely lost in thought." Maria snickered, when her knight captured one of his pawns. It was a bit unusual that he would find himself over a game of chess so late at night, but Maria's offer took him by surprise, when this evil woman knocked at his door two hours ago with the board under her left arm and two cups of hot chocolate in her hands (it was not important that she of course did not _knock_ at his door, but rather _kicked_ his door), and since he was not tired yet anyway, why not play a game?

Altaїr grinned sheepishly and stared at the board. He tried to think about his next move, but he simply could not concentrate, so he leant back heavily in his chair and looked at her. Malik was not here yet, apparently he had something to discuss with Rauf and sadly by now there was no good explanation why Malik should maintain his room in Altaїr's suit anyway. A few days ago he moved a few doors down. His council had decided on that, simply for they assumed that there was no need to have his bodyguard in so close proximity within his own home. After the incident with Haras there had been no more attempts of murder or even threats of violence against him. Yet he did not feel safe.

"Why did you vote for Malik moving back into his own room again?" Altaїr found himself asking, before he grinned at her with impish glistening eyes. "Jealous?"

Maria laughed. She was already in her Pajamas and she did not at all care for the looks she got because of it when she was rummaging the castle in this ridiculous light pink fluffy assemble. "You wish!" She huffed and brushed a few stray hairs out of her face. Altaїr liked her best when she looked as she did now: In her stupid PJ's, her hair in a messy bun without any make up. She did not even need much make up for all Altaїr cared.

"Well, you are my fiancé after all." He grinned. Of course the conventions of his country forbid that they would share a room before marriage and even afterwards they were not forced to share a room. His grandparents had separate bedrooms most of their shared life. Surely any old fashioned governess would experience a severe heart-attack seeing them both together like this now.

"I am indeed." Maria grinned. "And I voted for Malik to move out of this room simply to protect you, after all you cannot afford any more rumors. However you are the king and thus free to roam the castle whenever you like to. Same goes for me and Annabelle. Of course, I would love to have her close, but her room is next to mine and there is no problem in visiting her room and hanging out with my _best friend_."

"My grandmother would have loved you." Altaїr then grinned and a part of him pondered if his granny already knew how things would turn out for her grandson in this matter. She had always talked about an ally, never about a lover. "Sometimes I wonder if my grandmother knew about… Well, _me_."

"I bet she did. I met her only a few times before she died, but I always thought that she had a very sharp mind. I'm sure she knew the truth but evidently she did not care much about stuff as unimportant as your sexuality." Maria pondered. Altaїr huffed and already felt his cheeks turn pink a bit. "Oh, you look cute when you are blushing!" Maria teased. "I never thought you were one to blush! You always had such a big mouth and behaved like a brat!"

"Yes that’s what Malik says." He sighed and turned his king (the white king) between his fingers. "So we are going to get married, right?"

"You don’t sound cheerful." Maria smiled as she leant a bit on the table to study his face with her sharp blue eyes, making a tent with her long fingers underneath her chin. She was two years older than him and yet they shared a great number of similarities. Maria shared a lot of his thoughts and dreams for the future and yet Altaїr's heart felt heavy.

"I am, but you know … Well, sometimes I wish I could turn back time, back to when everything was much easier. Malik is right, I am but a bratty teenager and you have to deal with that I am afraid. We are all alone, Maria. We only have each other if things are going to get tough. We may be walking into our doom."

"We may, but we walk together. Don’t fear the future, Altaїr. You could bring this country the change it needs. We could, together, after all your subjects love me." She stated with a sly grin.

Again Altaїr replied her grin with one of his own. If he was a brat, than Maria was too, that much was clear. So, two bratty teenagers against the rest of the world then? "Sadly this is not a fairy tale." He murmured. "I have seen what could happen, you know? I see it as soon as I open any of my family's chronicles to read about the death of any of my ancestors. I would love to change the way the people in Masyaf are living, but I can only do so much. I could try to ban the punishments on homosexuality, but this is as far as it can get."

"What makes you think that?" Maria enquired softly. "You are the king; you can do whatever you want, even though you will never be able to openly love Malik."

"I don’t love him." Altaїr huffed.

"Yes of course you don’t." Maria smiled, before she finally stood up with a soft yawn. "I think I retreat to bed now, go and see if you can nag Malik a bit, I think he could be with his mother now."

Altaїr made a small grimace, but he just looked after her as she wiggled towards the door. "You know that you will need to see me naked one day, do you?" Altaїr could not resist calling after her, just when she opened the door, but Maria only produced a somewhat shrieking laughter before she escaped.


	13. the happiest day

The noise was almost unbearable. It was an absolute cacophony of gruff yelling, grunting, arguing, and loud roaring laughter that belted off every corner of the large room, accompanied incessantly by the music that was played from one end, roaring through the speakers all over the walls, and the irregular shout from the barkeeper when someone's drink was ready. For just this one moment in time, when the dark figure was entering the location, it seemed as if the entirety of the male population of Masyaf gathered in one place.

Of course, there was not a single woman to be seen within the crowd of rowdy man, sipping their drinks, while the smoke of their cigarettes was lingering heavily in the air like the smock over Hong Kong. The entire city was in uproar for what was coming within the next few weeks. Little girls were especially excited for the great event, nagging their mothers about the upcoming wedding or the future queen, while most of their mothers just pressed their mouths into thin lines to not spill any perfidious comment. That was at least what any good Muslim woman would do, the dark figure decided as he slowly walked through the room, carving a neat line through the crowd, before he caught glimpse of the barkeeper's face and spared him a short, sharp nod. Only then the figure walked right through the staff door and down into the basement.

"This British whore!" The dark figure heard a shout coming from downstairs as they slowly crept down the wooden steps. "As if it was not enough that she is part of this faggot's council! Have you guys seen how she reacted to this interview today? Thinks she is something special, doesn’t she?"

"She can suck my cock alright, that’s how special she is." Another gruff voice grunted. "That’s what women like this one do, isn’t it?"

"Well, what did you expect of this _king_ we have? His mother was a British whore too! He is just like his father and I bet his father too liked to suck cock just as much as his son. And to no surprise, I say! A family like this surely must have some mental illnesses in their family tree! Generations of inbreeding and incest for all I now!"

"Well, good Sirs, that would be true for absolutely every noble family in the world then, and for many of them it is indeed true." The dark figure finally said, their voice dark, but soft, as they entered the room behind the wooden door at the foot of the staircase. The smoke of the man's cigars had already created a thick blanket lingering just above their heads and it stank of hard alcohol and sweat. "For generations it was believed that to keep the family's blood clean from other influences, one should marry their cousin, some men even married their own aunts or half-sisters. Gladly we left this past behind us and for all I know, the future queen is in no way related to the family of our king now. However, what will become of our glorious kingdom if this couple is to be wed?

Their children will be mostly British at this point. How could we expect our king's son to rule this kingdom someday, when he is not even a real Syrian? How could we expect such a crossbreed to truly understand how the people in this kingdom are living and which moral qualities we do hold high? After all, his father cannot be a good example for this poor creature. His father always stomped on our believes, on our religion and moral qualities. Now he wants to legalize homosexuality and to no surprise, after all he is a faggot himself."

"I thought his US cousin was the gay one." A third man sitting by the table grunted. "He had come out back then when those rumors were first printed, right?"

"A trick to keep the good people of Masyaf at bay. The king is only lucky that the rest of his family is no less corrupt than he is." The dark figure snorted, when they walked towards the big table in the center of the room and took a seat. They were wearing a black coat, the hood of the coat covering their head, casting their face in shadows. The other men sitting around the table however did not need such costume to hide behind. They were the people one would go to if they needed something to be _done_. Those were the people one would ask for help if they wanted someone to disappear or some change to happen. It were only three men, but three men with great influence that was. The one sitting right across the table from the dark figure was almost to be mistaken for a pig; big and pink, with a face not even a mother could truly love. _Abu'l Nuqoud_ however possessed great influence over the people of this city with the riches he gained as the owner of one of the largest companies. If it had not been for him the riots of the farmers back then would not have been so effective.

The one sitting on Abdul's left hand side was Tamir, a dark dubious figure; a clever person would never even contemplate on trusting. Tamir was a man who always seemed to think three steps ahead, a man always weaving his nets in the shadows without anyone noticing. He was controlling the black market of Masyaf, giving weapons to the rebels and did not care for what they would use them. During the last three years, there had been a great many riots in this city, rebels against rebels, shooting each other's with guns they got from Tamir. The situation in Masyaf was dire and now the first radicals asked Tamir for help. Surely, if they would start to support the terroristic groups in the rest of Syria, they would get rid of this king of theirs very fast, but what would this mean for the people of Masyaf?

It was Talal, sitting on Abu'l's other side, who thought that fighting along a group such as those making headlines all over the world nowadays, would be only good for the moral qualities of their city. To him the people of Masyaf lost their paths long ago, starting the day their king had allowed two women and even a gay unimportant Italian painter into his council. From that point onwards the women of their city had started to act out at their men, demanding more rights, even the right to keep their own money! And this British whore supported them. It was insanity.

"I think we all agree on the fact that we need this kingdom to be saved from its corrupt leaders. The people of Masyaf need to be liberated and the dynasty of the Ibn-La'Ahads finally needs to die out. There is only one of them left anyway now and look what a person he is! We thought we had it bad when he first came here, a mere punk, a child who had no clue what he was doing, but look at where we are now.  This man is ruining our kingdom and he does it with a smile, applauding himself for the great changes he has worked out. He destroyed deep rooted alliances to other countries only to buy himself new loyalties elsewhere. He is planting his seeds on poisoned soil if he is going to marry that whore and maybe even father a child. No, I believe we can all agree on the fact that he must die."

"Until now your trials of killing this man were not were fertile, or am I mistaken in that believe?" Talal sneered at the dark figure. "So why should we now help you again to kill this man, after it did not work oh so many times? He should’ve died along with his mother, after we poisoned her for months and months, but he survived miraculously. He should’ve never been born but died in her womb and yet he didn’t. We tried to murder him numerous times. There had been insane people trying to strangle him when he was a child, tried to slit his throat, dug up the old well near the defense tower where he liked to play. We tried to let him fall to his death on the main staircase. He should have died in that car accident along with his father, yet he did not. He should’ve been drowned by this mad man Haras, and yet he survived! He should have attended this party in the museum and die in the explosion, but he did not. It appears as if he is unkillable, yet you are here again, demanding his death. Then how should we carry out the plan this time? There is no way in killing the man without doing it openly for everyone to see."

"That is exactly how it shall be. You will kill the king and his bride in plain sight for everyone to see. The people of Masyaf need to see it happen, they need to hear the sound of the change for the better of our beloved country."

Abu'l cleared his throat, a sly smile tugging at his lips. "But I'm afraid our kingdom still does need a leader, even after the king is death. The people of this country are in dire need of someone to listen to, of someone who says were they shall go and what they shall do. We need a strong moral figure leading this kingdom into the change it needs. Who are you proposing should be that very person?"

It was obvious that Abu'l was considering himself in such a position, everyone could see it from the way he was smiling at the other men or the way he was positioning himself on the stool that was already moaning under his weight. In another lifetime, he would have been a sultan for sure, a dirty pig surrounded by beautiful concubines, disgusted by their master.

"This would be me then." The dark figure spoke up again and lifted their head to confront the other men with their cold, hard glare, leaving no doubt about his seriousness of this decision.

●●●●●●●●●

The last three years had been a constant struggle, a constant up and down like riding on a rollercoaster with a blindfold on incomplete darkness. He had done his very best to appeal to his subjects wishes until he realized that he would never be able to meet their expectations anyway. from the first day on, he had not known what his subjects really wanted or even expected of him, but by now he was quite sure, that his subjects did not even know that themselves. His kingdom was divided maybe on this very day more than ever before in the past. There were the ones supporting their young king and his decisions and changes and the ones who hated every move he made.

Numerous death threads had reached the castle within those three years and even a few minor attempts of taking the young king's life had failed miserably. For his supporters every new failed attempt had been just all the more prove of their king's righteousness on the throne, for his enemies all the more evidence that there were more people like them and this knowledge had only fueled their hate against their king.

And while every death threat had been a shock to Altaїr, they came as no surprise to him. However this time everything was different. When Malik approached him on this very morning, he felt nervous to say the least. "I don’t like the idea." Altaїr sighed, when he brushed his fingers over his white sherwani and looked at himself in the mirror. His clothes were made out of the finest silk and that he could feel under his fingertips. Fine gold threads were woven into the silk, forming delicate patterns all over his body. He had never worn something as heavy as this sherwani with exception of his coronation coat three years ago. this simple white sherwani was even more majestic than the one he had worn during his coronation, but maybe his tailor thought that he had earned this many diamonds and jewels by now.

Malik's large hands found their way to his shoulders and gently pressed down on them, before carefully massaging his sore muscles underneath the thick fabric. With exception of the dark red sachet he was traditionally wearing around his waist over the sherwani he was dressed almost entirely in white and so was Malik for this very day.

"Everything will be just fine." Malik smirked, before Altaїr turned around to face him. He was worried and he was very much aware of the fact that Malik was able to see that. Altaїr made a small grimace. How could Malik possibly say that everything would be just fine after the threat that had arrived at the castle a few days ago? "Nothing will happen, you'll see." Malik then added carefully, but Altaїr only sighed and rested his forehead on Malik's chest if just for a second, right on his collarbone.

"I don’t know about that. This time it feels different, Malik.  Shouldn’t we act accordingly when not only I get threatened but everyone who will attend the wedding? After all, they threatened to blow up the entire place and that only because they don’t want me to marry Maria." Of course, that was not the sole reason and he was not naïve enough to think that it was indeed the only reason for this very threat.

"Oh you two are so very self-centered." Malik huffed but put his hands to the sides of Altaїr's face to make him look at him again, when he gently lifted his face. "That’s what my _wife_ says at least."

"Your wife is a clever woman, but I think she made a grand mistake in marrying someone like you, though you seem to get along quite well." It had been only a small ceremony two months ago. In adittion to the groom and the bride there had been only Altaїr, Al Mualim, Kadar, Malik's mother and Maria to witness the little wedding in the small chapel that belonged to the castle. His own wedding would be a whole lot bigger, louder and pompous. He was the king after all, while Malik and his wife were only mere employees of the king and the queen to be (not to mention that Malik was the descendant to the rightful king, while Altaїr was the descendant of the man who never intended to be the king). Though the whole event was staged and though he knew Malik and Annabelle were no couple in love, it had still stung a little bit, when they made their vows to each other. Malik's family had fully believed the wedding to be real, though they kept their separate rooms (to not disturb one another if one of their protégés had a problem in the middle of the night, they had said). It had been quite hard to party on Malik's wedding day, wishing that he could be the one at Malik's side and he knew that Maria felt the very same way.

No matter what he had achieved for the homosexuals of his country, he and his queen would always live a life in the shadows. Not even their future children would be allowed to know the truth. Children… Well, Malik and Anna needed to have children too, right?

"However, we are not at fault. We are both only children. We were raised in the very strong believe to be the center of the universe, one of us got even treated and spoiled like a prince."

"Yes that much I've learned." Malik chuckled lightly when he rested his forehead against Altaїr's and wrapped his arms lightly around his waist. "Don’t worry. Nothing will happen, you'll see. Don’t forget that the Sofians too will be at the ceremony, so they would get killed too if someone would attack the ceremony. Everything will go as planned and then you do what you are best known for."

"Partying?"

"Indeed."

Malik had it good, Altaїr thought later, when the whole castle was yet again in uproar. He did not need such a big show; he did not need such a fuss about his own wedding. Malik had been allowed to marry Anna in silence and serenity without anyone really knowing about it, other than all the people who needed to know. He would much rather have a little ceremony just as Malik had and not all that pompous nonsense.

For a moment he paused and stared at himself in the mirror again. Was this really still him? When he first arrived back at Masyaf three years ago, he had loved this pompous nonsense. He had always loved to be the center of the party, the center of attention. He had loved when people were looking at him. He had loved attention grabbing outfits, his dyed hair and his piercings. Well, he still wore some of his piercings, though only in private. Altaїr would not say he would have matured much during the last three years, but Maria liked to tease him with statements such as this. Funny though, how much he would prefer boredom and solitude now instead of noise, party and attention. He had loved last night though, no matter how noisy and rowdy it got with all his friends in the Hamam down in the city. Tradition wanted it, that the groom was taken by his best man and his male friends and (younger) relatives to a Hamam the night before his wedding to get pampered and bathed and spoiled rotten - though of course that was not how the boring old men would call it.

Apparently Maria too had had a blast, at least her selfies made that evident, which she sent to his phone last night. And yet, no matter how much fun it had meant to party all night long with Ezio again, it had not felt like before. His thoughts had been captivated by the grand day awaiting him and by the man that was to be his best man, accompanying him in the Hamam. He would have much rather been with him alone in that night. He would have loved to spend the night with Malik, acting as though the next day - _this_ day - would never come. But Malik had worn his most amused face while his older cousins had teased and mocked Altaїr all night long. Ever so often he had laughed, when Connor dunked him head first in the warm water, trying to wash his worried frown from his younger cousin's face.

However, had he not all the right reasons to be worried? No matter what Malik said, he was worried and he was afraid for his life - and for Maria's life. After all, she had nothing to do with all that and he would not want her to get hurt - or Annabelle - only because she decided to join Altaїr in this endless nightmare he was living. He had been afraid when they left the castle yesterday night and he was afraid every time they would attend any festivities in the city or even another country. Everything now seemed dangerous, everything now leading up to his wedding, seemed more and more damned, as if the bogeyman was waiting just around the corner. Maybe he was.

When the time came, Malik knocked at the door to his room yet again. The streets and places in front of the grand mosque of the city of Masyaf were filled with people, waiting that the ceremony inside the castle would start, waiting to hear from the various reporters, standing right on the other side of the street from the mosque, what was going on inside the building, waiting that the king and the new queen would show themselves to their subjects. There were little girls with tiaras on their heads and young women dreaming to be princesses themselves. They seemed to love Maria, really. And Maria was good in getting the people of Masyaf on her side - or at least the females. Absolutely everything she started seemed to run rather smoothly. It was strange, but Maria seemed to be a born queen, a born leader.

Normally it would be tradition for Altaїr to pick up Maria at her parents' home, to give her jewels and then drive to the mosque in separate cars. However since Maria's family home was in England, they skipped all that nonsense. Maria would drive off after him and Altaїr had never felt more anxious leaving the castle and getting into his car. They switched cars for this day. He was not getting into his usual black Rolls Royce, but into a white one with golden wheel caps, door handles and other beautiful details all over the snow white car. As it was his job, the chauffeur waited for the young king to let him into the car and then closed the door after Malik got into the backseat as well. During their planning of the wedding he had let Maria decide on almost everything, after all it was her buying into that dangerous life Altaїr was living.

Inside the car he could not speak openly with Malik, they could not hold hands; they could not kiss or lean at one another, so he kept his stoic expression almost the entire drive. "Kadar is so exited he barely slept." Malik finally murmured as they were driving through the narrow, wounded roads of the city.

"Let's hope then he will not let his guard down." Altaїr replied with a dry snort. Kadar just finished his training three months ago and was since employed in the castle as it was tradition. He was Malik's replacement and though Altaїr was glad that Malik had now more chances to get a day off, Altaїr barely trusted anyone but Malik.

"He is good in what he is doing, my king." Malik chuckled, though it was quite rare to hear Kadar's big brother praising his little brother's skills (and he only ever did so when Kadar was not around to hear it). "You are not the only one who had time, opportunity and tasks to mature. I would never trust anyone who is not capable of the job with the task of looking after you."

"Good thing he is already at the mosque, otherwise he would break out in tears and start wailing all over the expensive leather seats hearing something like that. Be careful with your words, Malik. Nothing means as much as your praise to your little brother. It was always like that." The king huffed quietly.

"My brother looked up to me, yes, that much is true. However there was always someone else he admired more than his big brother." Malik replied with a frown and maybe the big brother in Malik really was a bit sad that this person was not him. Altaїr however grinned sheepishly, finally leaving behind his dark frown - for now. He still felt like walking straight to the gallows.

"He is even stupider then than I originally thought."

"Well he is still very young and doesn’t know better."

"He is only one year younger than me and even I know that I am not the best role model to look up to." Altaїr finally hummed, looking outside his tinted window. He could see the people roaming the streets to watch the royal cars arriving at the mosque. The news reporters were already covering the arrival of the guests and the procedure as they were lead inside the mosque. The little TV in the back of the Rolls Royce showed pictures of the mosque and all the different cars arriving and driving off. The Auditore family had arrived with four different cars, all decorated nicely just as Altaїr's own car with flowers and the royal insignia. Federico came with his highly pregnant wife, though both of them would have rather stayed in Italy apparently. Federico had not even joined them last night and though Ezio would not tell him why that was, Altaїr was pretty sure that it was because of Altaїr's dirty little secret which had come out three years ago.

Of course Desmond's arrival had drawn attention to it too, after the news broadcasters had already speculated if Altaїr would indeed invite his gay cousin to his wedding. There had been outcries in the city when it turned out that Altaїr would indeed invite him, but since Altaїr spent the last three years fighting for gay rights as much as he was allowed and able to, he thought they should have expected this much of him already. However, just as many people were supportive of his decision as there were voices against it, after all Desmond was part of his family and those who supported Altaїr's decision of inviting him were the same ones that valued family over such ancient beliefs.

"We're almost there." Malik remarked courtly though Altaїr rather had him not to. He already felt his stomach turn and twist and revolt.

"I assume we do not have a bucket with us?" Altaїr tried his best to humor Malik, reminding him on the day he had been crowned three years ago, though nothing was like back then any longer. Back then he had been but a child, not worthy of the crown he had been given, not worthy of the unconditional  love of his grandmother or of the support he got from people like Malik, Rauf or the people down in the city cheering him on along the way. He had more than enough time to understand that not everyone in the city hated him and that not everyone thought him to be an absolute failure. There were people knowing and assuring him that he would grow with his obligations and proof himself worthy, though Altaїr never dared to believe them, because if he would, maybe he would rest upon this support and grow too lazy to improve.

He had made big mistakes when he was younger and though he was still young and still unworthy, he hoped that he would be able to be a good king in the future. Well, what could go wrong with Maria as his support?

He could already see the mosque towering over the quadratic plaza in front of it, casting large shadows on the cobblestone houses nearby. The sun was shining high from the clear blue skies today. It was a beautiful early summer afternoon and Maria could not possibly have picked a better date for their wedding certainly. Altaїr originally just snorted about a wedding in May, for he always thought absolutely every couple in the world would pick May to marry - well, his parents did and his grandparents also - but Maria reassured him, that it would be ideal and Altaїr just rolled with it (after she hit him with her organizer in the head several times). A part of him was a bit sad that they had not chosen his parents wedding day, which would have been in two weeks from now, but maybe it was for the best, he guessed.

The mosque of Masyaf was a beautiful, giant snow white building which had been restored after several attacks on the kingdom during the centuries many times by his family, but there was not a single trace of it now. The façade was smooth and without marks or scratches, only the giant white pillars showed the signs of age and former destruction but Altaїr thought it made the whole place just all the more beautiful.

The driver was maneuvering the car through the busy street, escorted by the cars of the national guard which were with them since their journey started at the castle and then the car finally stopped right in front of the mosque, he was almost certain he would throw up right on the shoes of his chauffeur. His chauffeur only threw him a reassuring glance over the shoulder - for after three years he clearly knew about the nervous stomach of the king. Well, he had once told him a story about Altaїr's father throwing up all over the expensive leather seats while driving to some important meeting. He sure knew what to expect from an Ibn-La'Ahad. When the driver left the car it felt like hours until he reappeared at Altaїr's door to open it and though Malik had to get out first, looking all serious and professional with his earpiece plucked into his ear and his usual dark scowl in place, he would have much rather just crawled onto the driver seat and drove off to Mexico.

He took his time, taking in a deep breath, after Malik positioned himself next to the car door, then he finally got out and prepared himself to look as happy as one person could be. Well, he was marrying his best (female) friend, so why not be happy? At least three years had sufficed that he learned how to act in public, he guessed as the warm sunlight hit him right in the face, before he turned around, away from the mosque to wave to his subject who were cheering at him in excitement. He remained exactly ten seconds, to greet his subjects, before the chauffeur got back into his car and waited for him to leave, then Malik nodded, gestured towards the entry and Altaїr walked on. On the grounds of the mosque there were no reporters or camera teams allowed, but the whole plaza was filled with security and the members of the National Guard in full regalia saluting to their king as he walked past them followed by Malik.

"Don’t scowl at the people, Mal." Altaїr grinned through closed teeth. "You need to show them your biggest smile, after all, your best friend marries your wife's best friend today. Other than this, I cannot have my best man scaring away all the people." Malik could not hit him or pinch him when they were in public, which was always a plus.

"Well don’t I look happy?" Malik smirked as they walked through the giant wooden doors. The dark blue carpet that had been rolled out for this special event was not just speckled with golden stars, but it also reached all the way from the spot the cars were supposed to pull up to the mimbar. The Mosque of Masyaf war quite the special place, Altaїr had learned this in the past. In this building one was able to see all the different streams or religion that had influenced this kingdom across the centuries. This mosque had been one of the very first buildings of the small kingdom and the center of it still reminded visitors on the good people building the mosque with their own two hands. However, Altaїr could still spot Christian symbolism when he entered the prayer hall accompanied by Malik. He could even spot Jewish symbolism every now and there. The people of Masyaf seemed not to care as if they had accepted those symbols as part of Masyaf's history and progress on the way of becoming this great kingdom.

Today there were no such things as prayer-rugs lying around the prayer hall. Muslim weddings were a whole lot different than Christians and normally it was a much more private thing. However he was the king and he was marrying a Christian woman, thus everything would be different today. Today men and women were allowed together in the prayer hall, sitting on white chairs, though standing as the king entered the hall under the loud music of the fanfares. It would be tradition for his best man to already been waiting for him near the imam, but since Malik was his bodyguard too he needed him close - which was always a nice excuse to have him close.

The gallery was empty except for a few members of the security overlooking everything and making sure to inform their colleagues about the things happening inside the mosque.

Ezio flashed him a sly grin, when Altaїr walked past him and the rest of the Italian pack. He was almost certain that he could already hear the Italian stallion snuffle, when Altaїr left him behind. Ezio had always been the kind of guy crying his eyes out during a wedding. He was quite curious if he would cry during his own wedding too. Probably - but hopefully because he would be so touched by his bride's beauty and not because it would mean an end to his adventures with the ladies. The Kenways and the Miles shared the second row on his left hand sight, while the Auditore sat in the second row on the right. The first row was normally reserved for the family, but since he had none, the members of his council filled his side of the first row, while Maria's family sat there with set jaws and frowns on their faces.  Of course they were here though only under protest, but they could not stay away either. Oh, what a scandal that would be! Oh, how embarrassing it would be for them if Maria would not have invited her family!

He spotted Kadar near one of the large arches of the archway surrounding the prayer hall. He looked like an adult now - more than three years ago when he came home for a few weeks with a cast, whining about the way he broke his leg. He was taller than his older brother now and with his bright blue eyes and his soft black curls he would be a perfect rival for Ezio - if Ezio would not be engaged and thus off-market, according to his fiancé, a beautiful red haired woman by the name of Sofia Sartor. It had been most fortunate for his cousin to meet her during his travels to Turkey last autumn, while he went away from Italy to get as far away as possible from his older brother and his freshly wedded bride Christina. It had been quite the drama, for Christina had once been Ezio's _girlfriend_ , though they never really called it that or made it official in anyway. Altaїr knew that at least Claudia Auditore had always thought Ezio would marry Christina. Maybe it was better like this, for Sofia seemed to be a delightful woman and much more patient than Christina, which was a plus when living with someone like Ezio.

Al Mualim waited for him at the mimbar, dressed in his most majestic robes. Maybe he was proud seeing Altaїr on this special day, maybe he was proud that it would be him who would wed Altaїr and Maria. Maybe he thought about the little boy he had helped raising at least eleven years of his life, who he had lectured with all the patience and calmness that only came with age. It was really hard to tell for Altaїr, because the face of the imam was as calm and relaxed as always as if nothing at all was happening out of the ordinary.

As he arrived at the mimbam to wait for his bride's arrival he had a moment of time to look around the prayer hall. He noticed Desmond squabbling with the man next to him - a tall Brit he had apparently met during his exile in Britain three years ago. Desmond was always quite secretive with his relationships outside the family, just as he was quite secretive with his personal life in public, but Altaїr suspected that he would not just bring _a friend_ to his cousin's royal wedding, not even to mention that getting invited to a royal wedding was not oh so easy - especially not for a history professor at Oxford who had turned to the dark side of writing - journalism - a few years ago.

He felt a bit uneasy, as he looked around the prayer hall, keeping his spine as straight as a broomstick, while Malik took his spot next to him. Maria's arrival was scheduled in five minutes and he heard the muffled voices of the other security guards through Malik's intercom. Only shortly he noticed that Kadar was moving a bit closer towards the mimbam, his eyes at the gallery as if he only just noticed something odd, but he then stopped again and seemed to calm down a bit. Altaїr followed his gaze unwillingly and though he noticed that he did not recognize some of the guards up there right away, he was very well aware of the fact that he could not possibly recognize all of them anyway. Everything was fine, he assured himself while the music of the royal choir was still playing soothingly in the background. This was not at all custom for a Muslim wedding, he knew that, but he wanted to make this day special for Maria. She was certainly not that type of girl wanting a princess-style wedding, however she was going to be the queen and she deserved a royal wedding, a beautiful ceremony for the sacrifices she would have to make during her life with Altaїr. What a weird thing to think, but it was true. She would have to make sacrifices, just as well as him, Anna and Malik. He was still amazed by the fact that Anna had agreed on marrying Malik, agreed on joining their alliance, for it was very likely to be an alliance for life and she was so young still - they were all so young still.

Malik cleared his throat and that was the moment when Altaїr tried his best to calm his expression again. Maria had arrived in front of the Mosque now, for he could hear the turmoil outside even through the thick stone walls. People cheering and clapping and calling for her attention.

Altaїr had no clue what Maria's dress looked like, but he knew that Muslim bride's had the tendency of pouring buckets and buckets of glitter and glamour over their dresses and faces normally. He felt his heart pounding harder and harder in exitement while he waited for the moment the great doors would open again for Maria. He almost really felt like a groom waiting for the lady of his heart to arrive. Finally, when Malik nudged him ever so gently in the side, the fanfares began blaring again, telling of the arrival of the bride, when the doors were opened. Everything happened at once, as it seemed. The fanfares started to pick up their royal tune again, the doors were opened, the imam slightly shifted on his spot and the choir started the song Altaїr chose for Maria's arrival.

First Altaїr only saw white, first he was simply blinded by the bright daylight coming through the large doors and then the bridesmaids entered the mosque, walking slowly down the aisle over the dark blue carpet, all dressed up in dark blue traditional Syrian robes with golden lace and stars attached to the expensive silk, that was pooling around their frames. They looked stunning and he was sure that at least Yusuf was already inwardly exploding with pride for his daughter and niece walking down the aisle as royal bridesmaids. It was tradition that the bridesmaids were chosen from the families of the members of the royal council - for whatever reason - but he was not at all sad to see Azize coming down the aisle right after Annabelle. They were six, slowly lining up on Maria's side of the mimbam and if Altaїr would have time to look at his guests or the imam, he would perhaps notice how annoyed Rashid and the Sofians appeared to be. For them this surely was too much of a Hollywood styled wedding, but Altaїr did not care. He only cared for the woman finally appearing at the end of the aisle.

He did not even hear the _'ooohs'_ and _'aaahs'_ from the guests.

Maria was a stunning figure dressed in pure white from head to toe and her appearance only grew in beauty as she started to move again. Slowly she started to walk towards him, a soft smile plastered onto her face, which he could only reply the same. Maybe they did not even try to fool all the people around them this time, for Maria's smile was honest, though the love in her eyes was only the love for a good friend and accomplice. Her heart belonged to Anna, that much was certain and never to be questioned.

Her dress was almost entirely made out of pure silk and beautiful flowery lace, the shape an elegant ball gown, heavy without a doubt. The lace was covering her arms and shoulders entirely, leaving only the hint of skin shining through. It was a long dress, the train almost 6 meters in lengths and though her train bearer appeared to be in a good mood, Altaїr was certain that she already wished to be somewhere else. Maria's face was covered by a veil of lace, still he could see her expression through it and her blue eyes glistening while she kept walking closer and closer. She was wearing his grandmother's jewelry, for it was what he gave her before the wedding and of course many people already noticed it. She was even wearing his grandmother's diadem.

Maybe he had chosen those gifts for Maria because he could annoy his enemies the most like this, maybe it was just because he found that his grandmother would have wanted it to be exactly that way. He was certain that his granny would be proud of him right in that moment.

Altaїr reached out for his bride the moment Maria arrived at the mimbam and she took his hand carefully, lifting her dress with her left hand so she would not stumble, before she came to a stop next to Altaїr. He was certainly no romantic guy and he certainly never dreamt about marrying really anyone, but the moment he got to finally lift her veil was oddly special, but she only smirked at him mischievously.

The bang that followed was unbearable loud right in the moment when the music ebbed off and the imam got ready to speak. Altaїr could not see or process what was happening. First he was sure it had been indeed a bomb exploding in the mosque. He was sure this time the threat had not been so empty. Then there was another bang - and another and another and Altaїr could suddenly see nothing at all any longer. The world around him was a place full of screams and panic and gunpowder. Altaїr was thrown to the ground and crushed down onto the stairs to the mimbam so heavily it blew the wind out of his lungs. Something fell right beside him and then there was darkness. There was no pain. Only disorientation, chaos, darkness and … hell.


	14. Addictive

_In the dark of the night, the halls of the fortress were filled with the ghosts and phantoms of long forgotten times and wind whispering through the abandoned corridors, while outside a storm was raging violently, rattling on the windows and wind shutters. Deep beneath the stone structure and the sharp, black cliffs, waves were crashing against the black stone of the mountain and the froth spurted high in the dark sky above, forming myriads of newborn stars with each wave, though no one was around to applaud the water for its efforts - No one but a man sitting restlessly on his bed and counting every little rumble of thunder outside the fortress, while his wife was sound asleep next to him._

_Faheem Al-Sayf was a man of great self control and calmness when it came to the normal day to day stress, that came as natural company with the life of a bodyguard. Nothing could really make him loose his cool most of the time and he was quite proud on that fact too. He always tried his best to be a good role model for his two sons, Malik and Kadar, who were sleeping in their beds in the next room of their family suite within the castle. However, during the last few days he could hardly be that role model his children, especially his oldest son, needed. Faheem always made sure to teach Malik, who was quite hot headed, to be calm and at peace with himself, but his oldest son was clearly noticing the distress of his father better than his little brother was. Well, it was no wonder really, Faheem mused. After all, the king had died a few days ago and he had not been there to protect him or at least die trying. He felt ridiculous. It had been his job, his only duty to protect the king - his best friend - and now he was dead and Faheem sat next to his wife in their way too soft bed. He had failed and everyone knew this though no one would say it._

_Maybe that was the worst. No one would dare saying the truth in his face. No one would dare saying he had failed his task, but Faheem had noticed how the people he came across stopped talking when he had walked past them, only to start whispering again as soon as they had thought he was out of earshot._

_Of course, he would stay here inside the castle and keep an eye on the young prince, for it was his job and the royal duty of his entire family, but what raison d'être did he have now? "Faheem?" His wife sighed by his side and searched with her beautiful slender hand for his on the mattress. Faheem closed his fingers around her hand, pulled it up and kissed her knuckles briefly._

_She was no woman of many words and he liked that about her. She was a stoic one, a stern motherly figure for their boys, a woman which knew hard work and did not shy away from it. Her black hair was still long and soft, but he was quite sure she would grow the first strands of grey hair as soon as Kadar would hit puberty. The little imp had much of his mother, at least when it came to his looks. He had her black curls when he would not get his hair cut regularly and her bright blue eyes, however as for character, Malik was the most like her. Mostly, Malik and his mother barely needed to talk to each other to know what the other one wanted. However, he was the most at ease when he was with him, his father, while Kadar could cuddle for hours and hours and hours on end with his mother. Malik was not much of a cuddler._

_"I'm here." He murmured quietly._

_"Can't you sleep, dear?" Of course she knew the answer and normally she would not ask if she in fact knew the answer to a question already. However, what was normal these days anyway?_

_"No."_

_"What troubles you? Is it still because the accident? You know you couldn’t have done anything to prevent this from happening, dear. The king told you not to come along. What were you supposed to do?" She carefully began, though it was a topic too troublesome to Faheem to discuss it in detail. Up until now he had avoided talking about the accident as best as he could. However, he could not forget the way the little prince had clung to him, bawling his beautiful amber eyes out which were so much like his father's eyes. His grandmother had broken the news to him, but after that he had refused to talk to anyone. He had not eaten a single bite of the meals the staff had brought him, but Faheem had been the only person Altaїr had allowed into his rooms. He would never forgive himself for not protecting this little boy's father. What would happen to the kingdom now? Would the old queen mother take the crown once again until Altaїr would turn twenty-one? Would she live long enough to ensure her grandson's place? All those questions - his fault._

_"I should have insisted." Faheem spat. "Why did he force me to stay anyway? That was not like him at all! I should have been in that car anyway."_

_"You think he knew what was going to happen, do you?" His wife gently sighed as she closed her fingers around his a bit more firm, as if to reassure him of her presence and her loyalty. "I've seen it in your eyes since it happened, this spark of doubt in this whole story. You don’t think it was an accident, do you?"_

_Faheem sighed and brushed his left hand over his face. "I don’t have any proof." He smirked dryly, desperately, though his wife surely could not even see it in the darkness around them. "Maybe he left something for me to learn the truth, but if he did I haven't found it yet." Of course he had searched Umar's private office for clues, of course he had searched inside his chambers, but he had not found anything to tell him, if Umar in fact knew about his impending death! Another lightning bolt was flashing from the skies only to illuminate their chamber with bright daylight for almost a second. "But if he had known about this, why would he have entered that car? No… Maybe he had the feeling something could happen, maybe he didn’t want me to come along because he wanted me to be safe just in case something could happen."_

_"You were his best friend. His only friend, for he was always behaving like an idiot around other people." She gently hummed and though Faheem would have normally laughed and agreed with her, this time he just jumped out of the bed, grabbed by the sudden sting of the unmistakable feeling, that something was horribly, horribly wrong. His wife sat up straight immediately and turned on the lamp, as her husband was already halfway to the door, just when the deep rumbled of thunder was silencing every sound inside the castle once more. "Where are you going?"_

_"I just … I … I don’t know. I feel like something is wrong. I need to see if everything's alright. I need to look after Altaїr." With that he turned around again to look at his wife, a worried expression on her face for her husband's erratic behavior, but when she finally nodded, Faheem rushed out of the room and started running just as he entered the large, dark hallway. Something was wrong, he felt it deep down in his guts, and though he could not protect Umar any longer, he could still protect the prince. With his life, if necessary._

 

●●●●●●●●●

 

He was a child again and his world was framed in white. He could see the blood on the glistening white snow all around him blooming like beautiful red flowers. He did not feel cold though. He was warm and something heavy was lying atop of him. He could not turn his head to see what was going on and a part of him decided that this was maybe for the better. Far, far away he could hear thunder roaring in the distance and lightning struck again and again, while birds were screeching on the horizon. Was he dreaming? Surely. There was no plausible way that this could be real. Birds were never screeching or chirping while a thunderstorm was raging, were they?

Then the noises stopped. The thunder was slowly ebbing off, the screeches of the eagles around dying off slowly, one by one. Finally, he would be able to go back to sleep again and leave this snow white world around him once and for all. After endless moments of silence he felt something tugging on his arm and hot pain shooting though his entire body, jolting him awake in the process. To his grand surprise he heard a pained scream and it took him a moment to realize that it was coming out of his own mouth. Then it was as if the cotton had been plucked out of his ears and out of his head too. The world had him back and everything was flooding in on him in full colors and sensations, like a shockwave hitting his body and making him stumble. He felt faint, as he was dragged to the side and was able to breathe again, though he had not even noticed that he had not been able to before. Suddenly air was demanding its way into his lungs and body and it _hurt_ as if his whole body was rebelling against the substance he needed to live.

"Fuck! Oh fuck man!" He heard a voice somewhere to his right hand side. "I was fucking shot! Fuck this job! I go right into retirement! Fuck this shit!" He was pretty sure that he knew the loudly cursing voice that was rambling on and on in the background, but he really did not care, for he had no idea what had happened or was going on right in that very moment. He felt cold, now that he had been dragged to the side while his back had made contact with sharp stones and was now lying quite uncomfortably on an especially pointy stone digging right into his spine.

"The king is injured! Call an ambulance!"

The king? But _he_ was the king, wasn't he? "I'm fine…" He moaned, forcing his eyes to stay open. He felt something dribble down his face, but when he instinctively raised his hand to touch the spot, his hand was met with resistance as someone was grabbing it firmly. "Don’t touch it." He knew that deep, rumbling, but oh so very soft voice well. Connor. He could not see clearly, the world around him was fogged and blurred, but he recognized Connor's voice. "Stay still, you got injured, but everything is fine. The ambulance will arrive shortly. Don’t worry, the danger is over now."

"What happened?" He moaned yet again, though he hardly recognized his own voice or was able to understand how he convinced his brain to made his mouth speak at all, for now the pain came crushing down on him finally. He could remember the loud bang, as if a bomb had exploded right next to him. Connor however was silent and Altaїr felt the panic rising in his throat. He could not really move his head, so he could not look around farther as his eyes allowed him to. He could not see what had happened to all the people in the mosque - to Maria and Malik.

"You’ve been shot." Another voice sounded from his left hand side and then Desmond's face appeared looming over his own. His forehead was glistening with sweat, his hazel brown eyes a mixture of worry and fear, as he grabbed Altaїr's face with both hands to have a closer look at him as it seemed. Maybe his face had melted off and that was why he looked so very worried.

"Where's Malik?" Altaїr replied almost instantly as he tried to sit up, but Connor pushed him back onto the ground and the pointy stone. The news needed a moment to sink in and yet his body already reacted to them. "Where's Maria?"

"Maria is fine, don’t worry. She only got a few scratches." Connor murmured and did his best in keeping his young cousin down on the ground, his large hands resting on his shoulders. And if to support Connor's words and maybe calm her fiancé down a bit, Maria chimed in somewhere from his right hand side.

"I'm okay, Altaїr." She moaned and though Altaїr was glad to hear her voice and hearing that she was indeed alright and still alive, it was only a little relief. Maybe the worst part of all this was, that he was not allowed to show his worry for Malik as much as he liked to and that he even knew in his current state of mind.

"What's with Malik?" He asked again, more pressing this time, but so quiet only his cousins would hear him. They would not judge him, that he knew for certain. They had never judged him.

"You should not talk so much." Connor hummed. "You got a pretty bad head wound."

"How is Malik?" He tried again, fiercer even than before. Finally, he could also start hearing the chaos around him too. He could hear women crying and a mess of people talking with each other, their voices hysteric, loud and painful to his ears.

"He is okay." Desmond stated softly, but since he could not hear Malik and since Malik was not by his side Altaїr sensed a great deal of bullshit lingering in the air like a thick cloud of smoke.

"Okay?" Kadar yelled. "My brother got fucking shot! He is not fucking okay!"

This time Connor was not successful in keeping him down, as Altaїr scrambled to sit up straight, no matter how much his head screamed in pain and agony while he did so. He felt terribly faint and dizzy as he finally sat and when he turned his head to search for Malik the first thing he saw was blood and snow once again.

Maria's dress was ruined forever, as the blood was seeping though the silk and the lace covering the mimbam and the stone floor. She was cowering near the spot she originally stood with Annabelle at her side. Annabelle had a rather nasty cut on her left cheek, but she seemed to be alright, while the other bridesmaids had apparently fled the scene in panic, except for Azize and Yusuf's daughter.

Kadar was sitting on the floor next to his brother. His face was bloody and he got not only one but two holes in his black sherwani. Luckily he wore a bulletproof vest underneath. Kadar had his own gun still in his hand, but Altaїr found no interest in the younger Al-Sayf or the scenery, as he scrambled to get to Malik, who was lying in a pool of blood right at the foot of the mimbam. He managed to free himself from Connor and yet he came not so very far, for just as he was about to get to his feet, the wound to his head took its toll and commanded him back to the darkness of his mind.

 

●●●●●●●●●

 

"So apparently the king is not dead." The dark figure stated, as they sat down again on the wooden stool down in the basement of the _King's head_ in the town of Masyaf. The entire city was still in uproar after the events of the day and of course the shooting during the royal wedding was still topic all over the news. Even the outlandish media was covering the story in detail with over enthusiastic young women blabbering their wild speculations and theories into their cameras as if their lives would depend on it at the end of the day. Well, maybe it was, for the media needed to fulfill a quota and everyone who was not able to deliver said quota had not a very long life expectancy within said media. All over the world there were speculations circulating about one of the terroristic groups that was raging in the rest of Syria being responsible for this attack on the young king's life. The people were outraged, the city a powder keg. In the small and narrow alleys of the city the tension was so thick one would almost be able to cut it with a blunt knife. Supporters of the young king were fighting with those who wanted him dead or dethroned at least and all the other people, women and children were frightened to even leave the house, for no one really knew when the conflict would start to escalate.

"He is not apparently." Tamir scoffed, lingering on his uncomfortable wooden chair with one arm dangling over the backrest and threw one annoyed glance at Talal, but _the accused_ threw his hands into the air in a gesture of defense, before he got up from his spot and started pacing around through the small room.

"Don’t look at me like this! It is not my fault, that those idiots were not able to shoot him in the head. Apparently, one of the bodyguards spotted them right before the first shot fell." Talal defended himself annoyed by the silent judgment hanging in the room and over their heads like a thick cloud of smoke.

"And now three of them are dead and the fourth is already in custody of the National Guard. If he decides to talk to them and confess, we should rather be out of the country already or we get hanged!" Tamir shouted at his _colleague_ , for friends they were not. They were a bunch of criminals and rats and every one of them had at least one skeleton in the cupboard. It was not wise to call such a person your friend, but for now they were fighting the same goal – or at least, they had been.

"I do not think we would be hanged, dear friends. I think we would be beheaded, that would be more dramatic I suppose." Abu'l Nuqoud spoke up, a smirk resting on his plump lips which looked as if two especially fat worms decided to die where his lips should be. His face was still calm and relaxed as if they were not talking about high treason they helped to commit, but a rainy Sunday afternoon with a game of chess between friends. "I would propose the already proven _Haras-solution_. It should not be so hard for you, dear friend, to get inside and help the poor, poor Swami in his current state of distress to find a solution for dealing with all the pent up guilt and fear he surely is experiencing right now."

 

●●●●●●●●●

 

His room was large and beautiful. The snow white walls were spreckled with gold here and there, be it for the doorknobs or the handles of the drawers inside the room. It were only small, little accents that once had been set in this chamber, barely noticeable, but still giving a sense of pomp to the room. Still, no matter the heavy white and gold damask curtains in front of the large windows, or the silken bed sheets with the royal insignia, it was still a hospital room and still he laid here with his head split, a broken knee and more than enough minor scratches and cuts to be pitied by his almost-wife. The nurses, whom he encountered on a daily basis, were like harpies in this place, that was a truth he quickly learned. Every time he tried to escape his bed to go on a little adventure through the east wing of the hospital they shooed him back immediately, scolding their misbehaving king like a mere pup which peed all over the floor. Well, at least he did not pee all over the floor.

Altaїr was restless lying in his bed like an invalid for days and days and days, only the TV to entertain him and keep him company, but since the news were still covering the shooting inside the mosque on his wedding day, he much rather watched the latest telenovela _storm of passion_ , for Maria would not bring him books to read. He assumed that was a form of punishment for annoying the nurses, but every time he asked her to bring him something entertaining to read, she only brought him some mediocre penny dreadful. One day, she brought him a pamphlet about arthritis, which she got in the pharmacy downstairs of the hospital. That was her sense of humor, he guessed. Their future children could only be pitied and Altaїr would make sure to coo over them as best he could, for their heartless mother would surely only mock them in their suffering. He missed Darif, but hopefully his mother took good care of them. Well, his _other_ mother, for _he_ was here.

"You cannot be serious. You are watching this nonsense again? Have you at least read the reports I brought to you yesterday? We need your decision!" Maria did not really care to announce her presence like a real English lady would. She never knocked or waited to be lead inside. She did not care if she would caught him naked or in a rather embarrassing situation (like on the first day when he had been forbidden to use the restroom and needed to pee in a chamber pot). She always barged in like a troll and began plappering right away. Altaїr only huffed and lifted one eyebrow, but he did not look at her.

"Aabid is right about to confess to Maarja about his affair with this woman, the daughter of the farmer I believe - forgot her name." Altaїr replied with a yawn, when he got a bit more comfortable in his big fluffy pillows.

"Altaїr the report!" Maria sighed again as she stepped closer, her high heels click-clacking on the tiles, before she dragged the visitors chair towards his bed so she could sit next to him. Only briefly Altaїr looked at the door and spotted Annabelle waiting for Maria. She looked well, after she and Maria recovered from the shock almost one week ago. At least they hadn't get hurt and that only thanks to Kadar's quick reflexes. He was a great shot and yet Altaїr heard from Desmond, that the boy was still complaining about his oh so nasty little injury.

"What's with it?" Altaїr hummed as he looked again at the TV, where Aabid made wild gestures at his wife, but Maarja stood there like a rock in the middle of the stormy sea, her hands in her hips (which was always a bad sign for any woman worldwide, as far as Altaїr knew) and her left brow so high risen that it almost disappeared under her beautiful dark curls which were hanging loosely around her face. Maarja was pregnant, but unlike the audience Aabid was not aware of that fact just yet and Altaїr was thrilled to learn if Maarja would decide to use her pregnancy in that argument, as soon as she would hear it from Aabid's mouth, that he was cheating on her.

"Did you read it?" Maria asked again.

"Did I read what?" Aabid was visibly shaken by the truth he was about to spill out in front of his wife like wine from a broken decanter, while his wife was still calm and listened to her husband rambling on and on and on about the farmer's daughter and how he hadn't planned on- The TV was shut off.

"The report!" Maria whined.

"Yes! Of course I read it! Would you now please turn the bloody TV back on!" Altaїr exclaimed and threw his hands over his head in desperation. Maybe he got a little bit too immersed in this telenovela. Desmond said his gestures became a bit more melodramatic since he started watching it.

Maria turned the TV back on with a deeply annoyed sigh. Maarja was crying alone in the beautiful salon of her town house and a vase lay broken into pieces on the tiles near the door. "Now I missed it!"

"Well, if you would have answered me right away, I would not have been forced to use such means." He was almost sure he could hear a snicker from Annabelle.

"I hope you will find a way to apologize." Altaїr huffed before he turned his gaze to his fiancé finally. Now that the thrilling part was over it was boring again.

"Aww…" Maria put her hands to both sides of his face and leant forward to press a kiss to her pouting fiancés forehead. "I'll buy you a poster to hang in our bedroom. Now, what did you decide on doing?"

"I decided that it is about time you guys finally let me have a look at Malik! It's been a week!" Altaїr answered, his pout still very much intact.

"I meant the report!" Maria huffed as she leant back again and began massaging her temples.

"I will not talk to you about that bloody report until you won't bring me to Mal."

Maria rose from her spot next to him and this time it was her throwing her arms about her head in exasperation. "A child!" She exclaimed (and a bit melodramatic too, Altaїr might add). "The king is a child!" He could hear a few nurses laugh on the hallway right in front of his door, though that was a truth which was hardly any new for them, after they were around said king for a week now. Surely he had already lost all his royal charm to them by now.

"He is my best friend Maria!" - Because after all they were in a public place.

"No, he is your _only_ friend, Altaїr, that is indeed a difference. And he is your only friend because you are behaving like a child, my love." She was not entirely wrong, on that he could indeed agree and yet, finally, Maria called for someone to bring a wheelchair for the king.

It had been a week since their failed wedding and yet it was still all over the news, as if there was nothing else of interest happening in the kingdom or the rest of the world. Well, it was a small kingdom and when something as horrible as this happened during a wedding, surely people would talk about it. It had been four men involved in this complot against him. Four men, who were first suspected to have somehow managed to infiltrate the security inside the mosque, until it turned out that all of them had been members of the security from the very start. All four men had been members of the royal guard for years, loyal to the crown and the royal family, their criminal records absolutely stainless! By now, already five of his security guards had wanted to kill him, if he was to add Haras to them.

Three years had passed and Altaїr was still not yet over the night Haras had wanted to drown him in his own bathtub. Still he was not taking a bath when he was alone. Still he could not stand being in the water when no one who he trusted was around to look after him. And now four more of the men he should trust the most had betrayed him and tried to murder not only him but Maria too. She seemed to take it lightly, but he knew she did not. Something like that one was not simply brushing off their shoulders as if nothing at all happened. Four men had tried to shoot them with the rifles they would wear as part as their royal attire for that day. Four men had taken their position on the balcony overlooking the ceremony to overlook everything that was happening and decided to shoot them. If Maria would have died, he would have never forgiven himself. He still felt sorry, but they did not talk about it since he had awoken again in hospital and started wailing like a baby in front of Maria out of pure guilt – and maybe a bit out of pain too. When they had been alone, she had only took him into her loving embrace and waited silently until he had felt better. And though he stopped wailing and crying at some point, he did not feel better. He was in a state of constant fear.

However, he felt as though the worst part was still waiting ahead of him.

It did not take long for the nurse to come with the wheelchair into the room. Though they liked to shoo their king around like a misbehaving puppy dog, they still dropped a curtsy every time they came in.

Altaїr did not like the wheelchair. He had gotten into that bloody thing a few times now and he still did not like it. It was not like he would sit in it forever, only until his knee would be fully healed again to ballast it with his own weight, but he had already managed a few steps with crutches - and only made things worse, how his nurses had scolded him. He still absolutely hated it. Yet he did not complain as he scrambled to get into that thing with a deeply annoyed sigh, the telenovela still running in the background. Apparently the nurses found it hilarious that their king was watching this crap daily, but they forgot that he was just a normal guy - most of the time at least. Acting like the worried fiancé, Maria gently brushed her fingers over his cheeks after he sat safely in his wheelchair and grabbed the handles. Of course _she_ would bring him to Malik's room! Not because she would not trust the nurses, but mainly because she enjoyed having power over him and scaring him with driving the wheelchair too fast when no one would look.

She was the devil in person, but today she did not use those mean methods, as they were going down the narrow hallway of the east wing. This was the section of the hospital specially reserved and dedicated to the royal family and their employees' period, restricted from the general public at all times. A hospital within the hospital, with specially trained medical staff and supplies. Here they had treated his father after his car had crashed into a tree on one cold January afternoon. Here they had treated his grandfather for his heart problems. Here they would treat him, Maria and their children and Altaїr trusted those nurses and doctors. They were doing their very best for the crown, but after the incident on his wedding, he felt always on edge and had hardly slept through at least one night since he was here. What if he was asleep and a nurse would come into his room to smother him with a pillow? Surely he had security guards in front of his door all time and bodyguards following them even now down the hallway like shadows, but what if they were corrupted as well? He could trust no one, except maybe his family and if he was to get too close to them, they would suffer along.

"How is he?" Altaїr asked halfway down the snow white hallway, while every nurse stopped and dropped a curtsy, only to wait until they had walked past them to then move on forward.

"You'll see." Maria sighed, because she had surely heard the slight tremble in Altaїr's voice and she had already scolded him once for showing too much emotion in front of strangers before. It was not as if Altaїr was an over worried or overly emotional guy and they both knew that pretty well. But Maria understood him best and she knew how hard it must be for Altaїr to walk down this path not knowing how Malik was, not able to visit him as much as he would like to. If their places were swapped, Maria would be just like him and Altaїr would urge her to keep it down just as much as she did.

"What's with his arm?"

She did not answer. Of course not. Maria had said he should see for himself and thus she would not say anything else. She was the devil and yet he would marry her as soon as he got out of the hospital, for he could not have wished for a better accomplish. When they reached Malik's door, he stopped one of the security guards in front of it before he could open the door with a gesture of his hand. Once again Maria sighed and rounded the wheelchair so she could look at him. "It's fine." She murmured as she again brushed her fingers over his cheek. The gesture was loving, not only for the eyes of those strangers around them, but for him also. Those small gestures, those little kisses she would plant on his cheeks or forehead – or once even his nose – were not just show, they were earnest and Altaїr loved it. "Just get this over with and then go back to watch your telenovela."

"I'm sorry that our wedding was a flop." He murmured, looking down on his knees like a child caught with the hand in a cookie jar. "I should have known." But Maria would not be Maria if she would not pinch his cheek and get back behind the wheelchair again.

"I think you have been watching too much crappy telly." She snickered, when the guard finally opened the door with a faint smirk on his face, but Altaїr stopped her once more and this time she leant over the back of his wheelchair to get closer to his face. "What's wrong?"

"About the report" Altaїr began with a sigh, because it would not be fair to leave her waiting any longer. "I think you should do everything that is necessary to get answers out of this man. But do not torture. We do not torture. If he decides to talk about his reasoning for the attack or the person who maybe hired him, then fine, but do not make him say things he maybe does not mean. If we won't get satisfying answers out of him, he will go to jail and straight to the gallows anyway. Some men, when faced with their inevitable deaths, are suddenly very much eager to speak."

It was only another hospital room just as his, when Altaїr looked up again to face his worst nightmare. White walls with specks of gold, white tiles and a bed with white sheets and the beeping sound of machines and yet Altaїr felt as if stepping through the gates of hell. He casted his eyes down on his knees yet again, not daring to look up. He felt so incredibly guilty though he had warned Malik and his council and debated with them whether to postpone the wedding or not. He had told them! He had! But no one had wanted to listen to him! And yet it was his fault.

"It was about time you show your ugly face." Malik's voice was hoarse due to sleep, but Altaїr's heart stopped anyway for a second, before he finally dared to look towards the bed, which was located right beside a giant window overlooking the park that belonged to the hospital. If he could, he would have jumped out of his wheelchair to throw himself at Malik, but since a) that would be quite melodramatic (maybe he really was watching too much _crappy telly_ ) and b) he would need to kill all witnesses, he did not do it but waited until Maria had shoved him to Malik's bed, leaving him at his right hand side, before she left and closed the door behind her.

Malik was pale as the sheets he was lying in, his skin had a grey tint to it, his eyes only half open, but he had a faint, quite smug grin to his dry lips, as Altaїr immediately grabbed for his right hand. He did not even dare touching his left hand or arm in any way at all. On the day of the wedding everything had happened so fast that Altaїr had barely understood a thing and still he had troubles putting the pieces together no matter how often Connor, Desmond or even Ezio and Leonardo had told him what had happened. In the exact moment, when Al Mualim wanted to start the ceremony, Kadar had spotted the traitors on the gallery, pulled out his weapon, just as they were about to shoot Altaїr right in the head and fired the first shot on the assailant, and then everything had happened at once. Malik and Annabelle had pushed Maria and him to the ground to shield them from the gunfire coming from the remaining traitors and Kadar had been hit a few times in the process, injuring his left leg and fracturing two ribs thanks to his bullet proof vest. Annabelle had gotten away almost completely unharmed except for a few scratches and cuts, Malik however had been shot several times, just as his brother. It had been him lying atop of Altaїr when he came back to his senses again, after his head had crushed down on the steps of the mimbam, fracturing his skull. Desmond had stated Malik fell, when he had been struck by the bullet that hit his arm and could not prevent falling on top of him because of the impact, resolving in more injuries to the young king - such as his broken knee - but a part of Altaїr was sure, that Malik did this on purpose to shield him from any more harm if necessary with his own body. Malik was dumb like this.

And now he was lying here in this bed, his left arm resting in a sling over his stomach, wrapped in bandages. A few cuts were shimmering red on his face and a few of them would leave scars surely, such as the one on the left side of his jaw cutting right through the stubbles he got there after days without having the chance to shave. Altaїr could not help but reach with his fingers for the still fresh cut to brush his thumb over the wound. Only for a second he felt the torn skin under his fingertips, before Malik turned his head to the side to plant a small, chaste kiss to Altaїr's exploring hand.

"I'm okay." Malik hummed, before he looked at him again, while the morphine infusion was still drip-drip-dripping away the time slowly. "Anna was here. She told me you were wasting everyone's time and nerves watching telenovelas all day long." There they were again. They were both hopeless, as it seemed, but at least Altaїr understood this now. They both were not able to really _talk_ , but rather escaped to more funny topics.

"Anna was here already?" Altaїr quietly asked but did not move any further. He still did not know a whole lot about Malik's injuries, for no one wanted to really tell him and now that he had the chance to ask him personally, he did not dare, because he feared the answer to this very question.

"Well, she is my wife." Malik answered with a smirk, though he still seemed a bit weak and exhausted, even when he now looked at Altaїr more closely.

"Yes, I suppose she is." Altaїr sighed and sat up straight a bit more, removing his hand from Malik's jaw to look at him more fully, taking in everything; The way he lied there, the drip he was connected to, the beeping machines which were watching over Malik, the bandages wrapped around his neck and shoulder. "How are you?"

"I'm okay. I told you before." Malik then chuckled. "But clearly, as always, you were not listening, novice."

"No I mean really. What's with your arm? How are you?"

"Kadar said I broke your knee, huh? _And_ your skull, though I would have never thought this to be at least remotely possible to be honest. A fine bodyguard you have here, right?" Of course he would not give him a satisfying answer to his question; for he was Malik Al-fucking-Sayf and he would never complain in any way or say anything about his own injuries or illnesses. He was invincible! If the doctors would let him he would run around solving problems already again.

"Well, you tried to protect me." Altaїr sighed and gently slapped his left cheek for not answering him.

"Still, maybe I deserve that I won't be able to use my left arm ever again." Malik's voice was but a low hum, neutral and passive as if it did not concern him on a personal level, though it was _his_ arm they were speaking about. Altaїr however felt a thick lump in his throat as he forced himself to speak on.

"Well of course you will be able to use it again, after all everything else would mean that Kadar needs to be my bodyguard and that I can't have. But until you regained the control over your arm and while we are both invalid and useless, you will need to endure crappy telly with me." It was simply not possible to tell him how he really felt about all this, for if it would not be for Altaїr, if he would not be king, if he would have let the Sofians take control from the very start, Malik would not be here right now. He would be well and safe.

"May Allah have mercy upon my soul!" Malik exclaimed with a dry and hoarse laugh, before he finally grabbed with his right hand for the collar of Altaїr's pajamas to pull him closer and steal a short kiss from the young king, while they had the chance and were alone. Malik's lips felt dry and brittle against his own, but he did not mind. The only thing he did mind was the moment when they broke apart again and way too soon for all he knew. "Thank god you are alright." Malik silently whispered against his lips, drinking up the moment when they were still so close together, before Altaїr leant back again.

It was too dangerous, considering that someone could see them through the small window in the door, though he would much rather lean his head against his chest or better crawl into his bed to be as close as possible. "I was trained to handle situations such as the one during your wedding. My whole life I knew that if it would ever come to this, I would give my life for you, not because I was your friend or lover, simply because I was trained to be your bodyguard. I knew something like this was bound to happen someday or another, no matter how things between us would have developed, so don’t you even dare feeling guilty in any way for what happened."

"I don’t-"

"I know you do, because I know what you are thinking most of the time. I would assume I am the person who knows you the best, without flattering myself too much. It was not your fault. You warned the council and you warned Maria, you even warned me the morning of your wedding, but we all decided to do this anyway and I still think that this was the right choice to make. It does not matter if you would have postponed the wedding. The attack was bound to happen sooner or later and I knew what I was dealing with. The only thing I have sworn to myself was, that I would make sure you would not get harmed by those traitors. Sorry for breaking your bones though, but I do believe we could call it a tie now."

"But your arm-"

"As for my arm, we will see. The doctors said they cannot predict if I will be able to move it as I am used to – maybe not even moving it at all -, but my _sword arm_ is still strong, so don’t you worry about having Kadar as your bodyguard. I heard he did not cope well with his first injury on duty. Still cursing about it like a lunatic. No, I cannot leave you in his care until my son will be old enough. I reckon he will be fit to guard you by the age of three, which is in four years, I guess. Until then, I will do everything in my power to guard you."

"Are you saying that-"

"Yeah." Malik chuckled and ruffled gently though Altaїr's sand brown hair, as the younger male leant forward again as if discussing a dangerous secret. "Anna is pregnant. We thought we might as well get it done as soon as possible after the wedding, just in case something would happen to me. I married a very intelligent and foreseeing woman, as you can see. Now we only need to marry _you_ off, my king."


	15. Swami

 

_Faheem had always known that something was wrong about his best friend's accident a few years ago and since that god awful day, he had never quite been able to shake off this feeling. Of course his wife was always nagging him, that he should stop overworking his brain because of Umar's accident, that he should stop feeling guilty for not having prohibited his death, that he should be proud that he had managed to save the little prince when this mad man wanted to slice his throat. However, Faheem felt deep down inside his guts that he was right about his thoughts regarding the accident. He could always count on his gut feeling. If not, Altaїr would be dead._

_That was yet another thing Faheem always tried to teach his two sons, but by now only Malik seemed to have understood and internalized this lecture, while Kadar still did not. Well, he was still a child, while Malik seemed more like an old soul trapped in a young body. He was seventeen by now and Altaїr … little Altaїr was thirteen and living a good life in Italy. By now the boy had already forgotten to write them on a regular basis – not that he would have done that in the first place. He was a lot like his late father in that regard. Umar too always forgot to write them, as he had been living abroad. Too many new influences, too many new sensations to distract him. Just like his father, Altaїr too was easily distractible and what had been a blessing when the boy had been a little child, would maybe turn into a curse for his friends and family at one point in his life._

_A part of him was a bit sad, that neither of them had heard of the young prince since he had vanished to Europe, but as long as Altaїr was safe and happy, Faheem thought it was maybe even better this way. Of course his oldest son saw the whole thing quite differently. Malik was – much like his mother – stern and sometimes unforgiving when he felt like he was being neglected or god forbid even betrayed. Kadar on the other hand seemed to find more understanding in his heart for the young prince. Surely, he had been quite sad too, when there came no letter even after six months of Altaїr living in Italy. He had expected that he would at least send them a postcard, but Kadar seemed not to hold a grudge against his old friend only for forgetting to write them._

_It seemed - Faheem thought briefly as he slowly sat down on the large black office chair that had once belonged to Umar, sitting in his private study - that by now it became clearer with every day what kind of persons his sons would grow into. Malik was almost an adult now and he already acted like one too. He was at the top of his class in the academy and he filled his stupid old father with pride, though he wished Malik would be a bit less pent up in his studies and a bit less serious all the time. He worried that his son would never be able to find joy or happiness in the little things in life for he only focused on his work and everything that could go wrong. Malik was a perfectionist, for him everything always needed to be a hundred percent correct, otherwise it was rubbish and not even worth his energy and time. He clearly got that from his mother._

_Kadar on the other hand seemed relaxed and easy going. Maybe a bit too easy going. Maybe Kadar could indeed profit from being a bit more like his older brother was, but right now Kadar was in a phase of his adolescence in which he desperately wanted to be not like his older brother, but desperately focused on being the most unique individual he could be and Faheem could only assume that this would only get worse when he would get a bit older and finally hit puberty to the fullest. After all, the boy was only twelve._

_Sometimes he wondered how things might have turned out if Umar would be still alive. Surely Altaїr would be here still, surely the boy would need to endure every little lecture his father had to offer, hoping at least something would finally reach his boy's brain. He had been a stern parent, whenever he had found the time to be a parent at all and Faheem still remembered the times when he scolded his best friend for overreacting, for being too stern with his child or spending too less time with a boy who so desperately needed his father and who so obviously wanted to spend time with his dad, that he rather got into trouble all the time to get his attention._

_Their relationship had not been the best, that Faheem knew and yet his death had ripped a hole in Altaїr's heart. That too was something he knew. Umar had once joked that Faheem was more like a father to Altaїr than Umar was himself and maybe this was true, or at least it felt like this. Everyday Faheem caught himself wondering and worrying if the boy was alright, if he was eating right, if he was studying hard enough, if he was getting along with the people around him, if he had friends, if he was treated the way he deserved to be treated – if he missed home. Of course the Auditore would send E-mails on a regular basis about Altaїr's development to his grandmother and so far everything sounded just fine and yet every time they would mention that he had a bad cough Faheem felt like he needed to travel to Italy to see if everything was alright indeed. His wife thought it was cute, but he felt just ridiculous._

_Well, then again, was he being ridiculous or was he just being a father? He was not just a bodyguard, he was not just Umar's best friend, he was the one person Umar had named to be Altaїr's guardian when he was born. He had held this little guy, when he had been just a few minutes old. He had taken care of him, whenever his father had been too stressed out or too sad to look after his boy or to even acknowledge his existence. Umar had been struck so hard by the death of his wife, that he always had a hard time even looking at his son during the first few years of the boy's life and though Faheem had find the strength to understand him at least a bit, he also had scolded the king many times while it had been him – Faheem – who had changed Altaїr's diapers, whenever he got the chance. It had been him, reading Altaїr bedtime stories and telling him about the world. He had spent many cold evenings with the boy, pointing at the starry sky and telling him about the stars and the constellations, for the child had been oh so very fascinated by the stars. Of course he was worried sick and he was already getting grey hair because of it._

_And now he was here once again, sitting in Umar's chair in Umar's private study where no one ever came except for the maids to clean off the dust from the bookshelves and desks. It was true that he liked to come to this room when he just wanted to find a bit peace of mind and just think about everything. For two years he now tried to figure out how and why Umar had died. He tried to learn something new and yet to no avail. Oh, he was still certain that it had not been a normal accident. Umar had known about it and yet … He had not left any hints. No matter how much he had turned this place upside down, there was nothing he could find out about his way too early demise. And now his heart was even heavier than it had ever felt before._

_Faheem did not know when exactly the troubles he had with his heart had started, but it seemed to become worse and worse with every passing day now. Maybe he was just getting old – or at least that would be what Umar would say with a faint smirk on his face. For just one moment, he stared at the photo of Altaїr and his father being together on Altaїr's fifth birthday, standing on the desk of Umar's study in a bright golden frame._

_The poor thing had always thought his dad would not care for him at all, but the truth was that Umar had photos of his child absolutely everywhere. He had loved his son dearly, that was not a lie or something Faheem wanted to be true, it was a fact. Sure, Umar had had his troubles with the child being there after his wife had died after giving birth to the prince, but still he had loved his baby son. It just had been hard on him looking at Altaїr and seeing Maud in his features. A part of him wished he could be with Altaїr in Italy now, to enjoy the sun and to see every little wonder Altaїr was able to see now. His heart was aching today a lot more than usually, he thought and he felt oh so very tired and old, as he grabbed the photo to bring it closer to his face._

_He tried to think back to the day this photo had been taken. He tried to remember the exact moment. Who had taken this picture? It was not him for sure, for Faheem could not take a good photo if his life would depend on it and he remembered having guarded the cake so that none of his own little monsters would try to steal it away. He could see a bit of the photographer in the mirror behind Umar and Altaїr. He could see the long white beard of Al Mualim and smirked. The old man. He had always been fond of Altaїr. He had always been a loyal friend and yet Umar and he had argued a lot right before he died. Having this memory of them getting along so many years before was nice to have he guessed, though Faheem could not even recall if this photo had been put up on this desk before Umar had died. He always thought that there had been another photo of Altaїr in that exact frame, because Umar had always said he did not like the way he looked in this photo._

_Slowly Faheem put the photo down again. He felt like sleeping all of the sudden. Well, what harm would it do, if he would nap a moment right here? And yet, when he closed his eyes he felt as if he should stand up again, to maybe call Malik, to maybe tell him about this finding he just made, though it was oh so very unimportant. Suddenly, there was this nagging feeling of first needing to do something else before he could sleep, but sleep was already dragging him down, never to release him again._

●●●●

The name of the traitor was Swami. Altaїr had heard the name before. Of course, after all _Swami_ was one of the royal guards and apparently he had known Haras quite well too – if not to say that they had been pals before Haras had apparently gone crazy and tried to murder Altaїr in cold blood. "And he doesn’t talk?" Altaїr carefully tried to enquire, as he slowly looked up again. Yusuf seemed quite uncomfortable being in this very room. He was finally home in the castle again, but still he was not allowed to do much. He was restricted to his bed, but at least he could work and his large bed was covered in notes and documents and reports while his laptop was resting on his lap. It was shiny and golden and Altaїr liked it very much. He always liked shiny and golden things. Yusuf however seemed a bit uncomfortable standing in the king's bedroom, especially when he noticed the eagle sitting near the balcony doors snacking on a mouse. Darif was quite big by now, but to Altaїr he was still his little ball of fluff – and Darif still liked to be with him, though he normally screeched at everyone who came to close to Altaїr, with exception of Maria or sometimes Malik.

"No he does not." Yusuf sighed and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "And we still have no clue about who was behind all this. Clearly not Swami and his acquaintances alone, that at least is quite clear by now."

"Yes, I guess he does not possess the brains for an operation such as this one, after all he and his accomplices needed to keep their heads down and act as unsuspicious as possibly. Though of course, I guess his now sadly very dead accomplices could have been a lot smarter and of course, Swami could have been just driven by peer pressure." Altaїr finally considered, for just believing that it must have been one villain behind this whole attack, pulling at the strings of Swami and the other men, was quite naïve, he supposed and quite narrow minded too.

"But judging by their records the other three members of this group were not the smartest guys either. As far as I am concerned this was something they did not come up with initially, but were happy to act out. Years and years of frustration pent up in the heads of those men and then finally someone who comes to them to introduce them to the glorious idea of killing the king and initiating a revolution in this very kingdom like this." Yusuf argued with a deep sigh. Clearly this whole situation was frustrating him quite a lot.

"I believe you do already have a suspect in mind." Altaїr yawned and sat up a bit straighter, after he slumped down in his pillows before quite heavily. His poor back was aching from lying here all day, with his leg slightly raised and supported by a few pillows underneath his knee and foot. It was ridiculous and yet he still got headaches quite quickly while he was working. He could not wait to finally be able to run around again like he was used to. He even missed his daily exercising program with Malik, but he guessed Malik felt just the same about this situation and was surely horribly frustrated to be tied to his bed as well. He could not even secretly visit him! It was madness! Of course he tried to get Maria to install a tin can telephone between his and Malik's bedrooms, but she refused. Of course, she liked to torture him after all and thus all Altaїr could do was making sad selfies and sending them to Malik's phone (or sometimes upload them to his twitter with captions such as #missmybae or #evilqueenisevil).

"I do." Yusuf quietly stated. "But I believe you do too."

Altaїr decided not to reply, but just dryly smirk. Yusuf knew about his thoughts and feelings he had towards the Sofians and to no surprise either, after all their family feud was well known all over the kingdom, nearly even legendary in itself. "We do not have any proof against them; after all they could have gotten hurt just as easily during the attack. Well, then again, I guess it could have been just a trick to make people believe that they would not have risked this." He paused again. During the last three years his relationship with the Sofians had not improved at all, but while at least Abbas was still baring his teeth at him whenever they sat together, Altaїr had decided to follow Al Mualim's advice and treated them with the utmost respect - but with caution too. Still it was unclear to all of them how in the world the media had gotten those nasty videotapes and photos three years ago of their king in this compromising poses, still it was unclear who had informed the media about Altaїr and Maria's engagement before their official announcement. He was sure it had been them – the Sofians -, but since there was no proof still, he never confronted them about that whole situation. "I try to follow Al Mualim's advice, you know? After all he was my mentor nearly my whole life and he still is. Three years ago, he told me that it was not wise to suspect the Sofians being behind everything bad that was happening in my life without evidence. Maybe I always wanted to think that they were at fault for that was what everyone always told me while growing up, maybe I just wanted to see them as guilty for it was the easiest thing to think - that was at least what Malik once said."

"And what do you think, my king?"

"I think they were both right. Since the day I was born I never heard any different about the Sofians. Everyone always told me that they were the bad guys, that they were the ones responsible for everything bad that had happened in my life or the lives of my ancestors. I think that was wrong. I think no one is inherently good or evil and no one is just plain evil just for being born into a certain family. Even Luke Skywalker was a good guy, though his father was a villain, you know?" After his little Star Wars reference seemed not to hit, he concluded: "So yes, I suspected them to be behind all this, but I try not to. I try to grant them the benefit of a doubt."

Yusuf nodded shortly and then sighed again deeply. "My king, there is something more. This man, Swami, the only thing he said to us was, that he would speak up about this incident if he could talk to you directly."

Altaїr was silent yet again to think about what Yusuf had just said, but in reality there was nothing to really ponder or think about. He already knew what he wanted to do. He felt nauseous, he felt anxious thinking about meeting the man who had wanted to kill him and Maria and the man he- _and Malik_. He could have killed everyone Altaїr loved and cared for and yet Altaїr already knew that he needed to talk to this man. He could not talk to Haras anymore, but he could talk to Swami still. He thought about what Malik would say to all of this. Surely he would be strictly against Altaїr's decision of talking to that man, but Malik was still chained to the bed just as he was himself and thus his opinion did not matter. It would not have mattered anyway, for Altaїr had already made his choice and no one was ever able to change his mind after he made a decision. He needed to confront Swami. He needed to speak to this man and to maybe even learn the reasons behind this madness. He was not naïve enough to think Swami might tell him who had been involved other than Swami himself and the now dead shooters. Surely a man ready to murder the king would not tell said king who his backers were.

"I understand of course that you might-"

"I'll do it." Altaїr interrupted Yusuf immediately as the man spoke up. "I need to. Tell Kadar I expect him to be ready and no wheelchair this time. I can walk just fine."

He could not, but he could not care less at the moment, as he slowly hobbled down the corridors on his crutches. It was the first time he was visiting this place. The first time he walked through the large corridors of the high security prison. He felt unsettled and nauseous still, but after all Kadar was right behind him, looking like an adult in his black suit with his gun secured in its holster at his hips and a very serious expression on his baby face. He was still a bit whiny about his injuries, but not right now at least. Of course they were surrounded by security, just in case something could happen. It seemed his security and even the police was constantly on edge since the incident a few weeks ago. Well, he should have expected as much, Altaїr guessed, after all, the entire city was in uproar and the police was not able to get the situation under control.

Still he did not feel safe as they finally arrived at the interrogation room. Through the window in the door he could already see the man waiting for him, sitting at a metal table, staring into the emptiness of the room. For a moment Altaїr thought that he looked like a man pondering about what he was going to say or if he was going to confess. A man fighting his inner demons. Surely he was wrong, at least his guts told him that. He nodded, as one of the wardens reached to open the door.

Swami did not look up as the door was opened. He was a man Altaїr would have never recognized under different circumstances, if he would be honest to himself. He was an ugly figure without question, though Altaїr suspected that this perception only came from the resentment he felt for the man who had tried to murder him and almost succeeded in murdering the man he- _Malik_. Yet, that was exactly the kind of thing Altaїr simply could not think about right now. He was bald, his face unshaved, with thick black stubbles framing his jaw, chin and upper lip. He appeared to be quite young, not much older than Altaїr himself and his eyes were dull and brown like mud, when he finally looked at his king.

Altaїr could not stop his mouth from curling into a horrible grimace at the sight of the man. He still had troubles walking with his broken knee, but he would meet this man standing upright and not sitting in a wheelchair only because such a minor injury. He knew how some of the men saw him and surely Swami was no exception. Though the rumors had died off about him being gay, many men and women still talked about it and thought him to be weak and fragile because of it. Malik always taunted him that he should not care what those people thought about him, as long as Altaїr knew that he was not weak or fragile in any way. After three years of exercising with Malik, Altaїr felt quite confident about his skills and maybe it would come as a deadly advantage that everyone else was underestimating him, he briefly thought as he just stood there and stared at the man, before he slowly walked on, his weight still supported ungracefully by his crutches.

He had walked three steps into the room as he heard how Kadar and the other security men followed him, before he stopped again and glanced at Kadar over his left shoulder. "Please leave us alone." Altaїr said, his voice firm without accepting any kind of hesitation to follow his orders and yet he was met with Kadar's blues eyes, shimmering with uncertainty. He was torn between the will to obey to Altaїr's command and the sheer force of duty that was resting on his shoulders after Malik could not be here. Surely he did not want to look bad in front of the other security guards or Malik in letting the king alone in such a potentially dangerous situation.

"My king, it is not safe to-"

"I think I can handle myself." Altaїr declared unmoving. "I want to talk to this man in confidence." For one horribly long moment nothing happened as Altaїr remained frozen in time, but then Kadar finally nodded and with a gesture of his hand the other men left the room with him. Of course they would have a close eye on him, Altaїr knew that and yet it felt thrilling being left alone with this man in this room. There was of course nothing Swami could kill him with - though he could try and beat him to death with the metal chair he sat on, but Altaїr still had his crutches to protect himself. No, he did not feel fear and it was only now that he understood what he felt when he arrived at the prison. He never felt fear because of the prospect of meeting Swami. He was a man capable of killing for sure, but his whole demeanor, the way he sat there, the way he looked at him, his entire appearance, told Altaїr everything he needed to know about the man called Swami. No, it was not fear, it was the deep feeling of worry and uncertainty not for the possibility of being attacked by this man, but for the things he might learn from him today.

Slowly Altaїr walked closer to the table between the two chairs and sat down heavily on his side of the table. "I remember your father." Altaїr began out of the blue, as he leant his back against the backrest of his metal chair. "His name was Farim, wasn’t it? I remember him being a guard when I was a child and still living in Masyaf, before my father died. He was quite plump though and I believe the other guards taunted him greatly for his weight gain. For all I know he never held a grudge against them though. I remember him as a weak minded individual, but as a jolly man for sure. I remember him laughing with the other guard's playing cards in their quarters quite a lot, for Malik and I used to sneak in to have a look on what they were doing in there."

"My father was a great man." Swami suddenly growled, but Altaїr doubted that he had pulled a nerve.

"I never said something different." Altaїr shrugged his shoulders and for now it was as if they were just two normal guys, not a king and a traitor, just two men talking to each other. "He was a good guy and he devoted his life to protect my family. He was in the car, when my father died, wasn’t he? Instead of Faheem Al-Sayf, my father decided to take him." Swami was silent. As a child he had never thought about the other persons involved in this _accident_ and as an adult it had come only recently to him that there _had_ been other people involved. As a child only his father had mattered and he had never thought about the chauffeur or the security guard whom his father had taken with instead of his best friend. "Is this the reason why you tried to murder me? Revenge for your father's death?"

"What do you even know about something like that?" Swami spat, his face an ugly grimace of pure hatred for the young king.

"Oh I know a great deal about it. I know how it feels when you want to kill someone you think is responsible for the death of someone you loved. I understand this feeling - but I never gave into it and that is a very distinct difference between us, my dear Swami."

"You know nothing, _my king_. You were raised in a cocoon of safety and ignorance. You didn’t care for my father or that your father made the decision of dragging him down with him! All you cared for was yourself and rebelling against everything your ancestors had fought for! Your ancestors were noble men, but you destroyed everything they stood for without thinking about what that would mean for your subjects! You were but an ignorant child and you still are! You have learned nothing within the last three years. Your decisions are still those of a child!"

"Well, I can understand why you wanted to kill _me_ , but I cannot comprehend or forgive why you wanted to kill my fiancé as well. Nothing of that has something to do with her."

"I didn’t care much for her death. She is just a foreign whore not worthy to be the queen, that is all I need to know about her."  For just a split second the childish voice inside Altaїr's head wondered if Swami had that low of an opinion about Maria because he had never been with a woman before and would surely never get one either, but he let it slip gracefully for this was neither the right time nor the right thing to taunt him with.

"Don’t you want to tell me a bit more about your friendship with Haras?" Altaїr then changed the topic, hoping Swami was so enraged his tongue would slip and provide him with the answers which Altaїr needed to move on from this point.

"Haras fought for the right things." Swami stated with a grim face. "His cause was righteous and he should have succeeded!"

"But he did not and some might argue that it was fate that he didn’t. Haras was but a puppet, dancing on the strings of a puppeteer! He did what he was told. So, how about you? Are you doing what you are told or are you doing what you decide on doing? Are you a puppet too?" Swami bared his teeth at him and though he had his hands under the table, Altaїr knew that he was balling his fists ready to lunge at him like a wild beast. Gladly his hands were chained – at least that was what he had been told and he refused to think otherwise. He refused to be scared by men like him. He refused to live in fear for another attack, for another traitor, for another incident or catastrophe. His grandma always used to say that everything that did not kill him would only make him stronger and though this was quite the cliché thing to say, he wanted to believe that there was indeed wisdom behind those words for they came from the wisest woman he had ever met. Everything happened for a reason and he had already decided that he would not be broken by any tragedy that would happen in his life from now on. He would not allow his life to be consumed by fear and panic!

"You were not acting on your own, Swami and we both know that. You were acting with a group and I doubt that you got together by chance, finding out about your shared hatred for me by a cup of tea in the guardroom one evening and decided _'Oh, maybe it would be a great idea to kill the king during his wedding!'_ , without someone inspiring you first. No. Even a man such as you are is not as dumb as to walk up to his colleagues to mention treason as if it means nothing. High treason is a crime worth the death sentence and even the mentioning of it could send you to jail. I believe that there was someone who brought this group together. Someone who knew about your shared feelings and saw the potential you as a group would have to end this once and for all. And I also believe that this person was not part of the group. So now, who was it?"

"I will never tell you anything about them. I will not speak to a faggot about them." Swami hissed, but before Altaїr could say anything else, Swami suddenly jumped off his chair in a way that made Altaїr think he got hit by something, but then he saw the white flash of the large hunting knife in Swami's left hand, as the man lunged at him. There was no time to think, there was no time to ponder how in the world this man had gotten hold of a knife or why his hands were _not_ chained together as they should be. All those things were brief thoughts rapidly flashing through his brain without him even noticing it, as he himself jumped off his chair, ignoring the sudden jolt of pain shooting though his entire body as he put so much weight on his broken knee.

He already heard the ruckus behind him, but Swami was so close he knew they would not come to his rescue in time. Swami's attack had the intention to kill and when he swung his knife he aimed right for Altaїr's throat. Behind him the door exploded as Kadar barged in, but all was over and done, before Malik's substitute could even set the first foot into the room.

There was blood. A whole lot of blood streaming over Altaїr's hands, as he slowly slumped to the ground, for his knee could not take the weight any longer, dragging his attacker down with him. "Your majesty!" Kadar yelled in panic and he heard him stumble towards him as the knife fell clattering to the ground. Blood was pooling on the floor, even more than Altaїr would have ever imagined. How could a man possibly bleed so much? It struck him with amazement, as he watched the blood pool around the body.

"I'm fine, Kadar." Altaїr murmured, crouching on the ground next to the knife, the pain dulled by the sudden rush of adrenalin shooting through his body like a drug, while Swami was coughing up more and more blood, the liquid oozing out of his mouth like bile. For just a second he thought Malik would be proud of him, but as Kadar put a hand on his shoulder to get him to turn around, Altaїr's brain finally turned back into action.

"Tell me why." Altair growled, leaning closer over Swami, but his muddy eyes were already clouded with impending death. Instead of answering the traitor spat blood in his face, but Altaїr did not flinch, nor did he rub away the blood on his cheek right away.

"They will succeed and then, after your house will have finally burned to the grounds, Masyaf will see a new day and a brighter future."

●●●●

"Malik! Would you please calm down already?" Maria sighed, as she hurried around the large bed inside Malik's room, but the large man still tried to get up. "Malik! Just- everything is fine!" She tried again, as Annabelle was pressing down on her husband's good shoulder to force him to stay in bed. His nostrils were flaring in anger like those of a raging bull ready to attack the women inside this room, his whole face bright red in fury.

"I'll kill him!" Malik shouted, as he sunk back into his pillows in frustration. Anna was quite strong for a woman, though one would not suspect her to be for her lean figure. Well, of course, she needed to be quite strong; after all she was a bodyguard out of profession and a good one too. To Maria it seemed though as if she was even stronger since she was pregnant and Altaїr had called it the power of fury only a mother had, as Annabelle had hit the young king with a newspaper over the head the other day, when Altaїr had been caught walking down the corridor alone.

"Well, I suspect he is already dead." Anna sighed as she slumped down on the edge of the large bed. "At least that’s what Kadar told me on the phone."

"I don’t mean Swami!" Malik spat like a rabid dog. Under different circumstances, Maria would think it was cute how he was behaving, that it was sweet how enraged he was because of the danger Altaїr had been in. "I mean my idiot brother! How in the heavens could he leave him alone with this man? Of course something like this would happen! Of course he would try to attack Altaїr! What was he even thinking?"

"It's not his fault." Maria stated dryly and climbed on the bed too, so she could lie on her back like a cat marking its territory next to Malik. Of course she was not calm. Of course she was on edge too, just as Malik and Anna, but raging and having a tantrum would not help the situation in any way. "It's Altaїr's own stupidity that will get him killed one day."

"Agreed." Anna snorted.

"You know just as well as I do, that Kadar couldn’t have done a thing. When the king says he wants to be alone with someone, than this order _will_ be followed. Maybe it would be for the better if I would handle such things and he is free to watch his stupid soap operas the whole day. Everything was so nice and peaceful, when he was still in hospital!" Maria groaned, though of course she only tried to make light of the situation while in reality Malik was not the only one whose heart was pounding like mad since Kadar called them only a few minutes ago. Apparently they would soon come back home again, after everything was settled at the prison.

"You should be proud though." Anna remarked as she glanced at her husband, who was still foaming with anger over the recklessness of Altaїr and his own younger brother. "Altaїr managed to protect himself against a mad man with a knife. That’s your merit, after all you trained him."

Malik only snorted. "He should not have to protect himself from a mad man with a knife! He could have died! He could have died and I couldn’t have done something about it because I need to lie here and be useless. This is ridiculous! What kind of bodyguard lies around when their protégé could be in danger?"

"One with enough brains to figure out that he would be of no help in his current state." Anna sighed and flicked him against the forehead with her long, thin fingers. "And now shut up, _habibi_ or I will name our daughter after the king."


	16. The wise man of the mountain

 

When Altaїr sat in the _Rolls Royce_ once again and stared out of his window on the driver's side of the car, he could only think about the obstacle still lying ahead of him. Suddenly the bright warm light of the sun shining through the tinted window was agonizing to him and the vibrations of the road underneath the tires of the car were slowly but surely driving him insane. He still smelled the blood and though he of course washed his hands already, he still felt as if it was clinging to them. He had killed a man. That revelation still needed to sink into his brain. He still had not the time to really understand what he had just done. He had acted out of pure instinct as Swami lunged at him. There had been no time to think, only to act! He did what he needed to do in order to save his own life and for that nobody seemed to blame him, yet he felt odd. He had killed a man and he could not recall everything that had happened in the exact moment. Shouldn’t he be able to still remember everything in full color and detail?

He still knew how he himself had jumped up from his chair and got ready to attack. They had wrestled for the knife apparently and then Altaїr managed to ram it into his chest, piercing his lungs. That was what Kadar had told him, amazed by the fact that the young king had been able to disarm the attacker who should have been a trained fighter. Surely he needed to thank Malik for the fact that he had been able to do that, for if it was not for Malik and his fierce training he would be dead now.

He could have died.

It was surely not the first time that he had this thought flashing through his brain. It was not the first time he nearly died. It was not the first time he got attacked. He had almost drowned, he had almost gotten his throat sliced, he had almost drowned _again_ , he should have died during an explosion at an event he should have attended. He should have died in car crash _es_ , he should have been shot during his wedding - gosh he had almost overdosed when he had been just a teen and now he survived this attack as well! He felt his skin crawl even thinking about it. It was not just his life that seemed to be constantly in danger now. It was Maria who was at risk too and Annabelle and Malik and their Baby! He would be responsible if something would happen to any of them, if he would die. And yet, his decision still held. He would not live a life of constant fear. He would not let himself get defeated by this. He would grow stronger after everything he had endured and would endure, for the hardest part still lied ahead of him and that was the main reason, why he felt so … helpless.

When they arrived at the castle he did not make a fuss as Kadar came to him with his wheelchair, instead he just sat down and let himself get brought inside. It was eerily quiet inside the normally so busy and antsy castle and the only thing he could hope for was that it would stay this way. The police would keep quiet about the incident at the prison and until Altaїr had not dealt with the situation at hand, no one would learn about it – if at all.

"Altaїr! Thank god you are alright!" Maria was rushing at him as if she had not seen him for months and months. He was quite glad that there were not many people around other than Kadar and a few other security guards, when that happened, for he did not want the ruckus to alert anyone of the strangeness of this situation for there was no logical reason why Maria should be so worried for him out of the ordinary.

"Of course." Altaїr just replied quietly when Maria took the reins of the wheelchair and shooed Kadar to the side.

"Your brother wants to see you Kadar." Maria then turned to the young man and Altaїr did not even need to see his face to know that he was making a horrible distorted grimace.  Of course, after all Kadar knew his brother and thus knew what was coming for him when he would go to see Malik. With a small nod the young bodyguard hurried up the stairs, but Maria and Altaїr stayed right where they were.

"I need to visit my private office." Altaїr then quietly declared before he could waste another second.

"You mean your father's old office?" Maria asked as she began pushing his wheelchair forward towards the elevator. He granted her a sharp nod.

"Yes. I need to look for something there."

Maria would not question him, as they got into the elevator to get upstairs with the wheelie. "Malik was so scared for you he wanted to go on a rampage against his brother." She then snickered, as the doors were closed and they in relative private for the moment. Altaїr really tried to force a smile, but he could not even bring himself to do it. Too many other things were ravaging his mind.

"I hope he stayed in bed though?" Altaїr carefully asked though he could already imagine how Malik certainly behaved after he had heard the news. He would kill Kadar, that much was certain and perhaps he should already figure out something how they could make it look like an accident.

"Why of course." Maria snickered. "Mainly because Anna made him." She then added and suddenly there was this creeping feeling underneath his skin again.

"Aren't you jealous?" He caught himself asking, not at all minding that now was certainly neither the right time nor was it the right thing to focus his mind on during the current situation. By god, there were more important matters other than jealousy! "I mean, she is pregnant after all."

"Aww don’t worry, honey, we will get pregnant soon enough too." Maria snickered, but her voice betrayed her playful attitude and yet he was not able to say if this was because she really was jealous or because she was worried and afraid. He and Malik had not spoken about the _how_ Anna got pregnant, but judging how loyal Malik was, Altaїr was sure he had not really slept with her. Not that it would matter, would it?

"You know what I mean."

"No, I am not jealous. After all, this was the plan, wasn’t it? Or are you implying you are afraid she could take Malik from you?"

"There is nothing _to take from me_."

"No, of course not." She sighed deeply and Altaїr tried not to think why she sighed. They had already spoken about all this and for parts he could speak with Maria more about such things than he could speak with Malik. Well, she was his best gay friend, after all and he pondered if that was how straight women felt about gay male friends in movies. He could talk with Maria about his feelings and fears and though he could talk to Malik too about such things, it was not the same, for he did not dare to say the things to him he would say to Maria. It appeared as if he and Malik understood each other on a different, more subtle, kind of level.

"Are you the only ones knowing about the situation?" Altaїr then changed the topic, when the elevator stopped on the first floor so they could get out and get to his father's old private office. Of course Altaїr too used it from time to time, but since he was a lazy slug, he mostly rather launched on his couch or bed with his important documents. He was no pencil pusher who could sit at a desk for hours – he had an army of secretaries and Malik for that. He was more of a representative figure, always holding his face in the cameras, though he might not be the best role model his kingdom could have asked for of course. The difference between him and other leaders of the world was just that Altaїr did not even pretended to be a good role model – that was why he was still active all over social media making an idiot out of himself.

"As far as I am concerned, yes. But you know that the walls have ears, Altaїr. I would not be surprised if the entire castle already knows. So, will you tell me what has happened?"

"When we are alone, yes. There are a few things I need to look at first." Maria was driving his wheelchair down a narrow corridor and after moments of silence, Altaїr spoke up once more. "We will marry as soon as this is over, alright? But I doubt I can give you the grand ceremony you deserve."

"You are afraid something like last time will happen again." Maria concluded with a silent hum to her voice. She certainly did not seem angry or upset about this.

"I don’t want to endanger you, Maria. I don’t want to endanger the people I love again with something so brazen like this. I'm sorry." And sorry he was. He was sorry for the danger he had put Maria and Anna and this unborn child in. And he was sorry that Maria had agreed to live a life behind golden bars.

"Don’t worry, I am no big fan of great events anyway and you cannot even imagine how uncomfortable and heavy that dress was! It's still a shame, though. It was beautiful."

"It was." Altaїr sighed. "But you must wear my grandmother's jewelry again. You looked stunning in it. She would have loved you dearly."

"And you looked like a real adult. You almost got me there, honey! Almost made me straight." She silently snickered and almost made him grin with that too, if the situation would not be so dire. He loved her dearly. He really loved this woman and her stupid sense of humor. He loved how normal everything felt with her by his side. Maybe she really was the big gay sister he had always wanted to have without even knowing it.

"You know, I would understand if you wanted out of our little agreement." Altaїr finally stated. "After everything that has happened already. I just mean, things are not going to get better, you know? It only gets worse from now on. And I cannot promise that you will be safe forever – or Anna, or our future children. I don’t know if I am able to protect you."

"No, I stand behind my promise, plus who is going to look after you if I'm not around? I'm sure Malik will let you starve when you start annoying him too much. He is not the guy for having a pet I believe." She gently flicked her long fingers against the back of his poor head, which was still not fully healed yet.

"Yes… He hates our baby too." Altaїr scoffed.

" _Your baby_ is a dangerous animal ready to pick out the eyes of your enemies."

"He is still my baby."

" _You_ are the baby. Are you going to visit Malik soon? He does not admit it, but he misses you."

"How would you know?"

"He stares at your stupid selfies on his phone and sighs."

"I think he contemplates how he can take my phone away from me forever or murder me and make it look like an accident – not that anyone would hold it against him."

"Well yes, that is maybe true, but I think you underestimate how much he loves you." Maria silently argued back as they turned another corner. Altaїr however only scoffed. Under different circumstances he would have maybe even giggled, but he did not now, for he simply could not focus his mind on stuff like this now. There was so much more he needed to think about. "No its true and I bet he will say it too at one point. You guys are just sooooo slow. Anna and I even made a bet when you guys will finally admit to it, after all it has been three years! I said you will say it when you're old and grey and fat. She said, Malik will say it on his death bed or to get you into having a heart attack."

"Well, not everyone can jump full force into something." Altaїr pouted, if only just to pout and to ease his nerves when he saw the door to his fathers ( _his_ ) old private office right ahead at the end of the corridor.

"Are you implying you didn’t jump into our relationship full force and with biiiiiig heart eyes? Don’t forget what I've told the press about our engagement. Oh Alty, you were soooo romantic. Don’t you remember the rose petals and the candles and how you were stuttering when you knelt in front of me and how you fumbled with the ring? You were so very cute." Maria grinned – which he did not need to see to know.

"And you were an ugly troll."

"So nothing new there. Our kids will be cute ugly trolls then, well, that’s certainly fine by me as long as they will get my hair - yours look like a bird has nested in it. Here we are, babe."

"I can go alone from here on. Just… well … have fun. I will go to Malik afterwards, promise." Maria gave him one last long look, for them both knew that Altaїr had just lied to her face and yet Altaїr himself still felt quite unsure about all this. He simply did not really know if he would be able to visit Malik afterwards or if he would need to focus his mind on something else. Yet she nodded and then turned around to leave him again.

Since Altaїr was not very often in his father's old study it still looked a bit like the late king's. He had not changed much about the room itself, though he initially thought about changing absolutely everything inside this very room, so that he would not get reminded of his father all the time, or the times in which he as a child came to this room in search for his father only to find him busy over his documents or asleep on his desk.

His knee still hurt as he got out of the wheelchair but the new splint was working just fine and he was able to walk with his knee stabilized, though still limping ungracefully and slow. He should of course not walk around as much, but he was tired of sitting in a wheelchair all day long and Leonardo told him as long as he was not overworking his injury it was all fine and dandy. Carefully he walked limping towards the old desk of his father and let himself slump down in the black leather armchair. The bloody thing was really comfortable and this study looked way less royal than the formal office he was sitting in all day normally. Here his father had the family photos, like any other businessman had on his desk. Here he had stored his various awards for all kinds of stuff from his early childhood on – he even had Altaїr's spelling award, Altaїr got when he had been eight, in a glass cabinet. This was the office of a father and family man and not that of a king. Maybe that was why Altaїr did not like to be here as much, for he only missed him more, feeling so close to him inside this very room. But it was not just his father. Faheem Al-Sayf had died in this room, sitting at this desk years ago. Apparently his heart had failed him, or at least that was what the doctors had told the family apparently. He was not sure if Malik really believed this, but maybe he just tried to talk himself into believing so that there was no one he could go after. Everything was easier this way. Altaїr though … he did not believe that this had been a natural death. Faheem had always been so good in shape and so healthy, how could a man like him die so suddenly?

 _Maybe he had been coming to close to the truth_ , Altaїr briefly thought as he skimmed the desk. He had not really removed anything from his father's desk during the last three years, but he noticed the photo that had always been a bit odd to him. Surely, he could be mistaken, but he could not remember his father having this exact photo of his fifth birthday present on his desk every time Altaїr had come to him. He was sure that there had been another photo in this very frame all those years ago, but then again he had been eleven when he had last been here before everything had happened. Maybe he was just remembering wrongly.

And yet it had been this photo Faheem had apparently held in his hand as he died – that was what Malik's mother had told him at one point when he had sneaked down into her kitchen one night again, trying to steal cake as a midnight snack. There was a lock on the fridge now, but Mrs. Al-Sayf had a brilliant mind and she still remembered vividly the day her husband had died.

When the door opened with a small creak Altaїr did not even need to look up to know who it was. "You should be in bed." Altaїr murmured quietly but could not help but staring at this bloody picture. His father looked like an idiot in it. "But I guess Maria has told you I'm here, right? She told you to come to me because I wouldn’t come to you."

"Which is not very polite, I might add." Malik answered as he closed the door in his back slowly and quietly. He was dressed nicely, though not as Altaїr was used to. Not the usual black suit or sherwani, only comfortable looking traditional clothes with wide pants and a nice top. He liked that very much, but sadly, now was not the time to focus on stuff like that or to admire that man and how perfect he looked in absolutely anything. He looked a hell lot better than last time he had seen him and only then Altaїr understood that he had not seen Malik for at least a week. His arm was still immobilized in its sling and he was still not at his pike again, but:

"You don’t look like crap anymore." Altaїr gently informed him as Malik came closer.

"Therefore you do, your majesty." Maybe he had not gone to Malik before (let's be honest, he was the king and no one could force him to do anything, if he would not agree, let alone forcing him to stay in bed and not see _his_ Malik), because the information of Malik becoming a father still stung a bit, no matter how ridiculous it was. Then again, Malik would have less time for him as soon as the child was there. He would not be his top priority any longer. Maybe he really was jealous. "And I've heard you decided it would be a good idea to throw yourself at an insane man with a knife."

"That is precisely the reason why I am here now. I hope you were not too hard on your little brother." Altaїr then remarked and gestured towards the chair on the other side of the desk, but Malik would not take a seat, only came closer to the desk. Oh he really did look a bit grumpy when Altaїr looked at him now again.

"I ripped him a new one. Under my watch something like this would have never happened." He growled, his voice deep in anger – not only for his brother for sure.

"No, under your watch all I would suffer would be a broken knee and a split head while you would almost die. Kadar hasn’t made a terrible job."

"Yes, but not a _good job_ either." He scoffed and came closer so that he could stand next to him, before he then grabbed the head of the backrest of Altaїr's chair with his good hand and turned the bloody thing towards him. Altaїr could not even begin to form a protest in his mind as Malik leant down, grabbed him forcefully by the neck and kissed him. The kiss was hard and rough and left Altaїr breathless as they parted again. "And you Sir, could have died." He huffed against Altaїr's lips before he leant his forehead against Altaїr's and closed his eyes for a second, as if to gather up his feelings to store them away again.

"You could have died as well in the mosque."

"The only difference is that getting into dangerous situations is my job." He sighed, his right hand still in Altaїr's neck, holding him in place, grounding him just enough so that Altaїr would not entirely lose his mind, while Altaїr could only think about the moment of the attack for now that it was flashing in front of his eyes again.

"If it wasn’t for you I would be dead now." Altaїr then agreed slowly.

"Then why did you go in there alone?"

"Because he of course shouldn’t have had a knife, right? So the real question is not _Why did I go in there alone_ , but _Why did he have a weapon?_ and _Why weren't his hands tied together as they should have been?_ "

For a moment Malik stood where he was, still holding him in place, but then he removed himself slowly and leant against the desk. "So then why did he have a weapon?" He sighed.

"From the last person to visit him apparently." Altaїr replied then dryly and leant back into his chair again, as his eyes fell upon the photo on the desk one more time and he started to see what Faheem had maybe seen all those years ago.

"Then who was the last person to visit him?" Malik asked. He was not exactly a person who liked playing detective, but he would help Altaїr to sort out his thoughts for sure.

"Ah well, that is exactly the point." Altaїr replied still staring at the picture in front of him.

"So I reckon you already know the identity of the person visiting Swami prior to you and giving a weapon to him?" He felt Malik's dark eyes burning on his face as the man stared at him, but for Altaїr it was quite hard to tell if said man was angry with him or not. Well, then again Malik was often quite angry with him, he supposed.

"I think I do actually. After all there are surveillance cameras all over the building, which makes me wonder if this person either wanted everyone to know who they are or if they thought I was dumb enough not to check this - well, which I wouldn’t have done if I would have died, I guess." Altaїr then murmured as his left hand grabbed for the picture to bring it closer to his face. "Malik, listen. I know you want to protect me at all costs. I know you don’t want me to go on my own about things like those, but this is something I must do on my own, okay? I cannot tell you … well … I _will_ not tell you what I know."

"And why is that?" Oh now he really sounded angry, but there was something else to his tone. Hurt, maybe?

"Because your face normally betrays you." Altaїr explained with a dry smirk and one tilted brow. "You are not so very good in keeping secrets as you think you are."

"I kept our secret."

"Yes and that is the very rare exception that only proofs the rule. I need you to do something else, while I take care of the situation at hand." Oh, his face spoke clearly of his unwillingness to _do something else, while Altaїr took care of the situation at hand_ , but he was loyal enough not to question him apparently. And yet in the future Altaїr would need to share this loyalty with Malik's wife and children as it appeared.

"Which is what?" He sighed as he crossed his arms (which was hardly difficult with his one arm in front of his chest anyway).

"I need you to go and talk to Yusuf, I bet you will find him in his office at that time of day."

"And why is that?" Malik replied and though he tried to play it cool and calm, Altaїr could hear how very much annoyed he was because of this somewhat unnecessary task, without knowing anything about Altaїr's reasoning behind it.

"I need you to tell him he shall meet me in the gardens. Tell him I found evidence for my hypothesis."

"And you don’t want to tell me what that hypothesis is?"

"No."

"And you don’t have evidence at all, am I right?"

"No, you're quite wrong. I actually do have evidence, just not for my original hypothesis, but Yusuf does not need to know that. When he will meet me, I will have evidence."

"So you have a secret with Yusuf now."

"It appears I have."

"Well then. I better get going then. Anything else, _your majesty_?" His voice was dripping with annoyance and anger and silent protest.

"Oh, don’t _your majesty_ me, Malik. Just tell him … well … half an hour. That should suffice. You will learn about everything in time."

He tried to sound cheerful, but he was very well aware that Malik could see right through that façade of his. Malik knew him best of all people in this world and like this he knew when it was best not to press on any further. For a moment, they just locked eyes and a part of him wanted to blurt out the truth, wanted to tell Malik everything he already knew after today's events. He wanted to tell him what he had seen, what he had heard. He wanted to tell him exactly what had happened and yet all he could do was making a thin line with his mouth so that Malik would not learn something that surely would come as a danger for him. And yet he felt empty and fragile as if he was made of crystal when Malik turned his back to him. He was not used to withhold secrets from Malik and he was afraid that he was causing a break between them that would maybe never fully heal again. Nonetheless, he did it to protect Malik. Because if not him - who else would protect Malik then?

"Malik" He spoke up again, just when Malik had reached the door and his own hands lay lifeless on the armrests of his chair. He could not possibly keep up appearances in front of Malik - in front of the man who had held him numerous times in his strong arms as they had lain entwined in his large bed or in Malik's much smaller one. Oh he loved this man, of course Maria was right about this. There was no question about this. There had never been a question about this. The moment he had come home, after seven long years, the moment he and Malik first kissed, he had known he loved him and that he would continue to do so as long as he would be allowed to live. Yet he could not phrase it, only hope Malik knew, because he was afraid - Not that Malik could reject him, but afraid that, as soon as he would say it aloud, the world would break into pieces again, as it always had as soon as Altaїr felt happy. For just this second he had the words on the tip of his tongue, lingering between them like a ghost, but then he closed his mouth again and Malik left, leaving Altaїr behind with his own inner emptiness and the shock of the secrets he had uncovered today.

Altaїr felt wobbly on his legs when he walked through the castle minutes after he had parted ways with Malik and this time not only because of his knee, but because of the confrontation lying ahead of him. During this time of year it was uncomfortably hot in Masyaf, but the gardens stood in full bloom. His mother's roses were still growing beautifully along the castles walls, as Altaїr walked outside into the heat of the afternoon sun. For a moment he paused and took the time looking at the roses standing in full bloom. The entire garden smelled like roses, telling Altaїr of his mother's presence still lingering about, still watching over him. It was not much he had learned today, though maybe more than enough for him to stomach, but everything he still so desperately wanted to learn he would need to ask of someone else. He would learn the truth today, that was what he had decided, whether the truth was given to him freely or by force. He was done playing games and if his subjects or his counselors wanted a fierce and strong and merciless leader, then he would give that to them.

Slowly he walked down the narrow stone steps, towards the large grey columns and the place he liked to sit and just enjoy life, drinking sweet Turkish tea, talking with friends, playing chess. He could see the large figure standing by the stone balustrade close to the cliffs, staring ahead on the sea as if nothing could ever disturb their solitude. "Three years." Altaїr began as he was closing the distance between them. "Three years I am home now and I still feel like the child I have been when I was sent away _to be safe_ , as the assaults on my life so brilliantly convinced me, never telling me the truth about the reason why I have been sent away. And though now I understand that being safer in Europe was not the reason why I have been sent away, I still understand so little it seems."

"Well, my king, I would not entirely deny this fact." The man quietly answered before he finally turned towards him in his black robes. "But looking at you know, seeing now how much you really have of your father, I believe you finally understood a few things at least."

"So why did my father need to die then?" Altaїr  shot at the old man as understanding settled over their heads like a thick cloud of smoke. It was almost not possible to predict what this man was going to do next for Altaїr  as he stepped yet a little bit closer, fully aware of the distance he still wanted to keep between him and the old man he had once called his mentor.

The knowledge that he had loved the old man like a father was now eating away at him and there was really nothing Altaїr could do against that feeling of utmost betrayal and destruction suddenly washing over him. He thought he would feel anger, rage, fury when he would meet the old man eye to eye, that he would lunge at him as he lunged at Swami, but the only thing he felt was numbness and cold.

"He would not see what good my ideas of reformation would bring to this kingdom. He was silly. He was no wise man. Unable to understand that this kingdom needed to go a new way, a new direction! For centuries the people of Masyaf followed your family - a bunch of dimwits and dilatants, turning their backs to Allah, when what they really needed was order, purpose and direction."

"You sound like those fanatics raging about in Damascus, Aleppo or Acre bringing destruction and chaos over the rest of Syria, destroying this beautiful country! What did my father do wrong?" His fists were trembling horribly as he clenched them hard at his sides.

"He strayed from god! He was too liberal, just like you are now with your poisonous ideals of free will and equality for absolutely everyone no matter their gender or role in society! For the people it would be better to just follow the lead of someone who beliefs in the word of Allah and the Qur'an in its entirety and its wisdom! They would be happier following their religion again like they have done it in the past so that their minds won't get any more clouded by those sinful ideas you have implanted on them!" The old man shot back at him, though his voice remained calm and leveled.

"This is madness! Is that the reason why you sent Swami and those other men after me? Did you try to inflict my death prior to this? Did you want to murder me when I was still child also? What role did the Sofians play in all this?" The stream of questions erupted from his lips, without him even thinking about if he really wanted to know the answer. It was too horrible, imagining, that the man who had helped raising him had wanted him dead when he had been but an innocent child without having done anything to deserve such betrayal.

"They just played the role you and your family gave them for centuries, for generations! The only crime they have committed was to just play along and give you what you so desired: an enemy to blame, while in reality you were too dull, too occupied with your perversions to see who it had been pulling their strings all along."

"You don’t deny it even?"

"Why should I, child? Do you think you can still beat me? Beat the ideals I so truly stand for? Haven't you seen that your subjects are already on my side, rioting for a new beginning? For a rebirth? Are you truly _that_ naïve and blind? No, Altaїr, you may have learned much from me, but the moment you set foot on Syrian soil again, I knew that you have been spoiled, that there was no way to save your soul any more. Truly, it had been devastating to see. The sins you have committed in the past! The atrocities you have done and blamed your cousin for! Truly a family of degenerated! I didn’t want to acknowledge the fact. I was crushed seeing what you have become, but I was also relieved, knowing that all I needed to do was to make you stumble into your own demise and for that I didn’t even need to make up something. All I needed to do was to grab what you gave me in the first place - what you gave the world in the first place."

"Is that why you supported me during all my decisions? You never tried to talk me out of my decisions, no matter how controversial and I always wondered why that was! A man of utmost faith not intermediating when something like gay rights are discussed! I should have known! Oh, how blind was I? You only supported me, because you thought my decisions were wrong and would lead me to be hated even more by my subjects!"

"I always thought, maybe you would see through it faster, but now three years have passed and still you have been so oblivious. Swami should have succeeded today, but it seems I underestimated what a good teacher Malik is, haven't I? What a shame, really. It seems then I shall do it myself and when the king is finally gone, nothing will stand in the way of a new beginning any longer!"

He was mad. Utterly, absolutely insane. For a moment, Altaїr was not sure what to expect. He did not know if this man would attack him, but then the old man lunged at him like a rabid dog, ripping the curved dagger Altaїr had once adored as a child out of his robes, with a pace Altaїr would have never thought possible for a man his age, but Altaїr reacted just as fast though his knee still turned out to be a hindering to his movements. "I trusted you!" Altaїr finally exclaimed what he felt brewing up inside him for hours now. "You were like a father to me!"

"And you were the biggest disappointment any father could have!" Their bodies collided in one ungraceful mesh and not at all like one would have imagined it to be. Of course, Altaїr had played all this through in his head from the moment they left the prison up until he walked up towards the man who once was his mentor. He had thought that Al Mualim might carry the dagger with him now, he had thought he would maybe wait until Altaїr turned his back to him to stab him, as he had tried to all his life apparently. He had thought they might fight, that they might hit each other, that Al Mualim might try to stab him over and over again, but never he had expected it to be this inelegant, this rough and rowdy and pathetically _ordinary_ , like they were nothing but to drunkards getting into a bar fight!

As Al Mualim ripped the dagger into the air to build up force and momentum to stab him, Altaїr rammed his knee right in his crotch to make him stumble and hit the dagger out of his hands with the very same move Malik had shown him during their first lessons. It had been messier with Swami, the moment when their bodies had been so close he had felt and smelled his rancid breath on his face, twisting his arm with the knife to ram it right into his chest. Before he could do anything else Al Mualim's fist collided with his jaw and sent him stumbling back a few steps, but only so he could threw himself right at the man once more, slamming the old man's back right into the stone balustrade towering upon the cliffs and the sea with its large waves crashing into the dark stone, that built Masyaf.

"What a fitting end it would be if you were crushed by those rocks!" The old man spat right in his face, a mad grin on his distorted face as he tried to shove Altaїr back, but the younger man resisted with all his power. He only needed to pull through this one until Yusuf would arrive. He needed that awful creature alive, otherwise he would have just shoved him over the balustrade! The frantic kick of the old man against his broken knee sent Altaїr screaming in pain to the ground, giving the man the time he needed to make a run for the dagger that was still lying on the ground a few feet away.

Altaїr was blinded by hot, white pain shooting though his entire body, filling his head, but there also was the screaming of his mind telling him to act _now_! Quickly! Without hesitation! And he did. Just in the moment when Al Mualim crouched to grab the cursed dagger, Altaїr shot himself at the man like a cannonball, biting through the pain with a ravenous scream on his lips and his teeth bared and bloody. Once again he rammed the old man against the balustrade and then- it broke.

He did not understand it until he was already stumbling forward - stumbling into his demise - as Al Mualim lost his footing and fell with a scream, clutching in one desperate move at Altaїr's sherwani to drag him with him into the pits of hell so he could finally succumb to the punishment he so deserved for his vile acts and atrocious sins. The moment he fell he knew it was over and done and yet his left arm grabbed for a piece of the broken stone balustrade still anchored into the ground and the unbreakable stone on which Masyaf was built. For a moment he thought he had seen a hand reaching out for him, grabbing his arm, fastening his hand around the sharp stone to hold onto, but then it was gone and he hang there, clasping the stone desperately, the screech of an eagle sounding somewhere in the distance. He did not dare looking down. He did not dare watching his mentor fall into his death. He did not want to see him being crushed by the waves or smashed into pieces on the cliffs beneath.

For just a second he thought of letting go. _L'appel du vide_ , he thought to himself, as he grabbed with his second hand for a patch of grass above. Everything would be easier if he would be dead. Well, for him at least. He would not have anything to worry about any longer. He knew that he could just let go, just get rid of everything - let the people of Masyaf decide for themselves!

He had not heard them coming. He only noticed them, when their hands grabbed for him to pull him up. He had expected to see Yusuf, but he did not. It was Rauf, his face pale as the dead, clutching at his king's arm to get him up and into safety again - and Malik, crouching on the ground with his good hand wrapped around Altaїr's right forearm, sweat dripping of his forehead, while Altaїr was for a moment only frozen in horror as their eyes met and he felt how his world was tumbling. If they were talking or shouting, he simply did not hear it.

His feet were moving on their own as he desperately tried to find footing on the rough stones. He wanted - ne _needed_ \- to get up! If not for his own sake, than for Malik's! What an odd thing to think in a moment such as this one. Gladly there wasn’t time to ponder about it any further.

"Altaїr! Altaїr come on!" Malik hissed when finally Altaїr's right foot caught hold of a gap in the stone. "We got you! Come on now you lazy slug!" And that he did. It took only a few seconds for both men to drag their king up again and after they did Altaїr fell with his back onto the stones of the terrace and the pain was coming back with all its might, his poor right leg spasm under the agony of the injury and Al Mualim's vile attack on it. But all Altaїr saw was the clear blue sky looming above him and then Malik's face, leaning over his, his deep brown eyes darkened with worry and panic.

"The king is dead." Altaїr murmured quietly to himself and then with a dry grin: "Long lives the king." He had never liked _The Lion King_. Well, maybe he would now.


	17. poisoned

When Altaїr stared down on the ocean everything seemed peaceful and quiet to him at first glance. The moon casted his white light down on the sea and the stars seemed to shine even brighter tonight than they ever had before. "You shouldn’t be up." A voice suddenly sounded behind him but Altaїr did not even turn around to look at the intruder while Darif produced a small screech and ruffled his feathers next to the king, sitting on the balustrade of the large balcony. A soft summer breeze was making the white silk curtains sway just a bit, giving the illusion of just an ordinary idyllic summer night just as any other night before and every night to come.

"You too." Altaїr slowly hummed. His knee still hurt, but he could not lie down. He could not even sit down. He felt antsy and roughed up and nervous. Nervous! Hell. He had spent half the day watching from afar how the police tried to retrieve Al Mualim's body. Apparently it had not fallen into the ocean, but had been crushed to death on a rock. He still did not know if he should be glad about this.

"It has been an awful long day." Malik sighed as he stepped closer, but to Altaїr's surprise he did not go to stand next to him, instead he wound his arms around the young king from behind and rested his chin on Altaїr's shoulder, taking a deep-deep breath and closing his eyes. Malik seemed tired and exhausted all of the sudden and Altaїr knew exactly that this was the way he felt – because it was the way he himself felt.

"It has." He slowly agreed as he leant back a bit more into the hug. It felt nice being so close again, after not having the chance since the day of his very catastrophic wedding. Malik was normally very cautious when he was going to shower him with affection like this. Never would he have dared doing something like this outside of closed doors, but today nothing seemed normal anymore. "I still cannot believe that it was him. I should have known. I should have seen."

"You did." Malik hummed. "Somewhere deep down you did, but you didn’t want to accept it. Just like me. Just like my father. Just like everyone." Altaїr tended to forget that Rashid had not just been a mentor to him, but to Malik also. For him too it must be hard to now face the truth about this man.

"Just like _my_ father." Altaїr sighed, but he could feel how Malik shook his head gently next to his.

"No, I think your father understood, that was why he put up this photo before his death, wasn’t it? You found it, just like my father before." He had told Malik about the photo on his father's desk as the day had proceeded to go by, as the clocks kept ticking the time away as if nothing had happened.

"Maybe." He sighed. Of course Malik was right and now, hours later he knew it too. Since the day he had first set foot into his father's old private study he had found this photo to be quite odd and by now he knew that this was his father's way of hinting at the person who might be responsible for his very probably death. He did not know what his father might have thought back then, maybe he would never know and maybe it was better like this. He did not know if his father had known what Rashid's game was, but he would never have the chance to find out now. "They argued a lot, Rashid and my father, before my father died. I knew that – everyone knew, but no one suspected Rashid having something to do with his _accident_." - The accident where not only his father and his chauffeur, but also Swami's father had died.

"He was clever." Malik murmured, not caring for the way Altaїr could perceive this praise of the dead old man, simply for Malik knew him well enough to already know his reaction. "He was the one indoctrinating Abbas, wasn’t he?"

Altaїr spared himself and Malik from saying that he should not ask questions he already knew the answer to, not because it was rude, but because it was unnecessary. "I think so, but we will only know for certain when Abbas and his father will open up to the authorities finally."

"Well, that’s only a matter of time now. Secret Service is turning their offices upside down, the police are investigating their house and the both of them are already in investigative custody too, after the evidence that they already found in Rashid's office." Malik quietly summarized their situation as if he needed to clear up something for an invisible audience and Altaїr would have gladly smacked him in the head for this. Everything happened way too fast today. First his visit in the prison, Swami's death by his hand, the surveillance tape showing that Rashid had been the last person to meet with Swami in his cell – apparently to grant him comfort in his position as a man of god -, the realization that it could only have been the old man the whole time pushing him forward so he would destroy himself. Al Mualim's death…

"I told him that I would visit Swami today." Altaїr scoffed. "I told him that Yusuf didn’t like the idea of me meeting up with Swami all by myself, but of course Rashid supported me. I feel like the biggest idiot ever." And that he really did. How could he have been that blind? How in the world could this have been eluded from his sight for so long?

"Mainly because you are." Malik sighed before he finally let go of him, but only to grab Altaїr by the shoulder to force him to turn around. He did not need to have two arms for something like this, for Altaїr was still butter in his hands. "No more solo-actions for you, alright? I almost lost you today, Altaїr. Twice! I cannot possibly let you wander off alone ever again it appears."

"Apparently you can't." Altaїr sighed softly as he leant forward a bit to lean his forehead against Malik's. It were those little touches, he had missed the most lately. They were both in no condition to fuck or even contemplate fucking sadly and while his former, eighteen-year-old self would go absolutely nuts about a situation like this, his now (not so very much) more mature self, had no problem whatsoever with these circumstances as long as Malik was still with him and still very much alive - that fucking bearded handsome bastard.

●●●●

It was true that Abbas Sofian would have never expected to be in a situation such as this one. His hands were bound. He was not able to do anything, while he could only watch as his life crumbled before his very eyes. He could only stay put and watch those men invading his home and turning everything upside down, tearing apart the tight knitted fabric of his private life and the secrets he had woven in the shadows like a spider. For once his father was in awe how silent the castle had been behaving the whole day. The message of Rashid's death had hit home only half an hour before the Special Forces arrived at their family home, this honorable old mansion their family maintained for decades - for centuries! It was either that their spies had been silenced before they could have sent news to them or that their spies were grateful for the downfall of the Sofians which was inevitably caused by Rashid's death.

Of course the king would go after them now. Abbas had known from the start that everything would fall with Rashid and now that he was dead it had only been a matter of time until they would have found the evidence leading to their family's involvement in everything. He told his father that they should get rid of Rashid and destroy the evidence that could possibly lead to their involvement in everything, but his father always denied this wish, always demanded patience and calm. Rashid had given them the contacts they needed. He had provided them with the people they needed to carry out their plans. He, this wise, moral, religious figure who always had an open ear and heart for the problems of his fellow men, no matter their social standing, no matter their skills or their heritage. The people of Masyaf had looked up to the wise man of the mountain, they even loved him. Of course a deeply religious man such as Haras would go to Rashid with his worries for the kingdom and of course a deeply religious man such as Rashid himself would gladly support Haras's religious beliefs and understand his worries. How should he have known that this moral support he had given Haras would lead to the man trying to drown their king in the bathtub?

It had been the old man weaving his net – the biggest spider of them all – a snake crawling through the ancient halls of Masyaf, lurking, preying, waiting to attack and everything under the cloak of the understanding religious leader he had been. It had been a careful, fragile alliance and Abbas had known that right from the start, but he had never believed his father as he had told him that they could never be sure if Rashid would not turn on them at some point. His father had always warned him about trusting the old man, about getting too involved in his plans. He had always warned him and yet Abbas had thought he knew better, that they themselves would have more than enough evidence against Rashid, so the old man would never even contemplate to turn on them. No. their alliance had been forged with a clear purpose. And yet it had been Abbas being the careful one, being the one who wanted to take precautions with the old man, murdering him if necessary. And yet it had been his father not agreeing.

"We found documents in your possession. It seems you were trying to burn them, as we arrived at the scene, isn’t that right? Sadly for you, our forensics had no problem whatsoever in reconstructing everything that you wanted to destroy enough to draw a decent picture for us about the whole situation." The man in front of him spoke up again, after hours and hours and hours of silence in which Abbas had only stared blankly at the metal table in front of him. The light was loud and agonizing to him, but he only clenched his jaw in anger, not sparing him a glance even. "I think you are aware of the situation you and your father are in right now."

"What did the old fool think?" He heard the voice of his father next to him while everything was just a blur for Abbas. His head was filled with bees. "What did he think? Did he think no one would make the connection between his last visit to the prison and Swami's attack on the king?"

Yes, what _did_ he think? It was utter idiocy! How in the world could he have thought nobody would pick up on that? Even if the king would have died the police would have investigated on the situation and would find out about Rashid's involvement.

"He hoped for a riot in the city when the king would die by Swami's hands. He hoped the good, religious people of Masyaf who were already rioting against the monarchy would support him enough so that he could build up a proper defense. He was a mad man truly." The investigator stated with a calm voice and a level head, as if none of that truly came as a surprise to him.

"He was not mad!" Abbas hissed at the investigator in front of him, a man with dark skin and wild eyes - though truly not born in this country. Oh what a disgrace. "He fought for what was right! Great men always needed to do gruesome things to better the conditions of humanity!" There was no use in arguing against the evidence and Abbas, though normally compelled to fight, did not see use in even trying right now – at least not with his father sitting by his side and spilling everything right at the police as if it meant nothing to him. They were facing the death penalty and both of them knew this – however his father seemed already at ease with his fate, as if he had already not only accepted it but embraced it truly. There was no explanation for the things the police was about to find in their house and offices. Of course they had not left the evidence lying around openly for everyone and their mother to find and look at, but sooner or later everything would be found and surely the king would take care of his dogs finding _anything_ that would help him getting rid of the so fiercely hated enemy. Their family feud finally found its end as it appeared. After hundreds of years, the house Ibn-La'Ahad was victorious at last.

When the Secret Service together with the Special Forces had ravaged their home his father had not even flinched. He had been calm the whole damn time, from the moment when Yusuf Tazim had called them to inform them about Al Mualim's death and the evidence that was found against the old man, they had known that the police was coming for them next and then they would go after Tamir, Talal and Abu'l Nuqoud, for Abbas had taken care that there would be evidence against them. Oh, he would not go down alone. He would drag those men with him, for they were not able to fulfill their part in their agreement. They should have taken care that the king would die and yet he was still alive. It was over apparently and the hardest part about this was that Altaїr was triumphal. He was up there as if nothing had happened, going on with his sinful lifestyle, going on with his stupidity. "He will ruin this kingdom." Abbas hissed at the man in front of him. "You know he will!"

"Are you denying you affiliation with Swami, who was one of the men trying to shoot the king at his wedding day? Are you denying that you are involved in the complot against the king and the blackmailing campaign?"

"Rashid had been the middleman." His father answered while Abbas could only lean back in his chair. It could not be helped. "Rashid met with the people supporting our cause. We needed people to help us, people with influence we ourselves could not meet without drawing suspicion. Rashid on the other hand had every bit of freedom he needed. He could go and talk to people in his role as a spiritual leader, just like he went to Haras and talked to him about his hatred for Altaїr but instead of soothing the man, he made matters worse deliberately. It was Rashid who last visited Haras in his cell too. And the same happened with Swami and those other men. He brought them together, he introduced them to us, and our mutual friends took care of the rest. I never expected he would be so foolish to bring a knife to jail for Swami to murder Altaїr."

"He didn’t." The policeman said. "It had not been him. It had been one of the wardens, corrupted by the money those _friends_ of yours provided him with, apparently afraid Swami might be tempted to confess. It seems the knife originally was given to him for the purpose of giving Swami the means to end his own life as Haras before did. Apparently that was why Rashid ad-Din Sinan, Al Mualim, had visited him - to talk him into ending his life. The man has already been caught and will face trial together with you and your son."

"For what charge?!" Abbas growled.

"For the blackmailing of our king three years ago, for the instigation of murder committed by Haras, for your involvement in the destruction of the Museum for modern Arts two years ago, for the instigation of a terroristic attack, for high treason and for the murder of King Umar the second through a provoked malfunction of the breaks of his car, for the murder of King Aquilus the second, Queen Maud and Faheem Al-Sayf through poison. We already found the poison used in all of those cases in your home."

●●●●

It was a small ceremony, hidden from the public eye in the throne room of Masyaf Castle in the light of a new day's dawn, when the sun had not yet fully risen from its slumber. Only him, Maria, Anna and Malik and their new imam, a wise man with soft black eyes reminding him ever so slightly on Faheem Al-Sayf, had been there. They married in secrecy and silence, surrounded by their loved ones, quietly and in solitude and Maria were beautiful in his grandmother's jewelry and the traditional robes she was wearing for him. The silk of the dark green headscarf she had loosely draped over her dark brown hair let her eyes sparkle even more. She seemed at ease when her blue eyes glanced up at her newly acquired husband as they were exchanging the rings and in the dim light of the candles and the chandelier, her pale cheeks were pink as if she was nervous or even flustered, though Altaїr could not imagine her to ever be flustered, nervous or embarrassed. It did not take much effort to kiss her, no not at all, for she was his best friend still and he was glad that she had decided to stay with him and not to leave him all alone in this desperation. He would have understood her, if she would have decided on running off with Anna in the face of the danger surrounding her new life at his side.

Still, no matter how glad he was when the imam gave them his blessing or later as Maria was declared queen or when their marriage was announced to the public, he felt lost and he proceeded to feel lost and alone when he stood at the large balcony again and watched the fireworks exploding above Masyaf. The people were enjoying themselves after the shocks and surprises of the last four weeks. It was July by now and their failed first wedding almost forgotten. There were still riots within the city, especially now after the people of Masyaf had learned about the death of the imam, but some of the rioters seemed to have calmed down a bit after the public was informed about Al Mualim's involvement in everything that had happened. First Altaїr thought that he did not want them to know and that they should keep the old man in fond memories, but then he decided that his subjects deserved the truth no matter how hard it might be. Some of his critiques thought he decided on informing the public out of self-defense, to get rid of their hatred, but he would have gladly taken it all, for saying the truth was not easy - especially in this case, when he needed to admit that he had been fooled his entire life.

"You are still grieving." Maria sighed quietly that evening as she stepped closer and wound her left arm around his back to snuggle closer to his side, resting her head against his right shoulder. When she was wearing heels she was taller than him, but as it was right now she had the perfect height to lean on him. He liked that she would often run around barefooted or in flats and he thought that she was mainly doing this so she would not be taller than him. Well, she knew she had married a big egomaniac. "You shouldn’t torment yourself like that, Altaїr."

"I always knew the Sofians had a part in all this." Altaїr explained quietly, his hands still resting on the cold stone of the balustrade. "And he told me I should overthink my view of them." He then snorted. "He was the one telling me that it was not wise to always assume they were inherently evil, for this was the exact way the Sofians saw my family and yet… I was right, wasn’t I?"

"Do you still think they are inherently evil?" Maria asked quietly, her voice oh so soft, though this alone told Altaїr that she already knew the answer to that question and that she also already knew his view in these things.

"No." He wanted to say _yes_. _Yes they are inherently evil, why else should they have wanted to kill my entire family for centuries? Why else would they have tried to murder me before I was even born?_ He wanted to shout his hatred for those men off the rooftops, but he could not, for something was still holding him back. "I loved this man. I really did. He was like a father to me, he taught me so much about life and the world. I don’t want to believe that everything he said was a lie. No one is inherently evil, but they were puppets dangling from his strings and they didn’t even notice it."

"What are you going to do next?" Maria then softly asked and brushed her hands through his hair in an attempt to tame his unruly hair. "Are you going to pardon all those men?"

"I don’t like the death penalty. I think it's barbaric. I think it's not right. No one has the right to decide whether a person dies or lives and I have already killed two men. I don’t want to kill five more. How can they ever understand the wrongs they have done, when they are dead? How can they ever try to redeem themselves when they are dead? Maybe I am just too soft. Maybe my ancestors are turning over in their graves right now, but I need to stay true to my principals and if that causes them to rotate in their graves, I am willing to get my punishment in the afterlife, at least then I will have done something to own it." He smirked a bit, for that was exactly how the media would portray him. For his haters he was still the soft, girlish, gay king who was not capable of making hard decisions, but they did not even know how hard that decision really was and how awful it was to know that he had already killed two people. He had not intended to kill, maybe that was the difference. He had acted out of self-defense because if he had not, not only he would have died, but also Malik, Maria and Anna would have been doomed certainly. If it had been only for him maybe he would not have fought back. But it was not only that he did not want to ballast himself with the deaths of any more persons, the hardest part of this decision, the part no one but him would ever be able to understand was, that he was working against his own instincts. He wanted them dead. He wanted all of them hanged or beheaded or shot. His whole soul was screaming for revenge! But he could not give into this desire. Doing this, denying himself this satisfaction was the worst part of this, but he knew that the satisfaction he would experience in their deaths would only be short lived.

Behind them Altaїr heard the rustling of fabric as the curtains were softly brushed to the side, but he did not turn his head to see who was interrupting them. "Ahmad Sofian is dead." Malik's voice sounded dark and hoarse and not at all like Altaїr was used to. Well, he was not the only one whose fundament had been broken over and over again during the last few weeks. The news took him by surprise but then again they did not. Ahmad Sofian was a weak man, a whiny coward. He always had been. "He has slit his throat apparently. The police are investigating how he got the knife to do it."

"Who knows? Maybe from Abbas." Maria sighed and kissed his cheek, before she let go of her husband and turned around. He heard the sound of the soft smack as Maria kissed Malik goodnight too and then she left them and for the first time Altaїr was not sure if he wanted to be alone with Malik at all. It was a weird state they were in since everything happened so very fast. Not yet a month had passed since Rashid's death and the trial against the Sofians and their collaborators had started. _Tamir, Talal_ and _Abu'l Nuqoud_ , three names Altaїr had of course heard before prior to all of this. Three dangerous men. Three men greedy for power and influence and all three of them slick as a leech. It was considerably harder for the authorities to gather up evidence against those men, but Altaїr was certain that it was just a question of time and if they would not find evidence for the crimes against him and his family, there was more than enough evidence for everything else they had done wrong in the past, more than enough people or companies that had gotten hurt or slandered by them.

"It's over now." Malik murmured when he came closer, moving silently like a ghost. He did not like the way Malik was creeping around him lately, but he would not tell either. There was so much between them neither of them had yet spoken about. So many things unsaid, that should be said at one point. "Abbas will either face his trial or chose the same exit strategy his father has chosen. You are safe now."

"There will always be others, Malik. Look at the city. There are still more than enough men and women hating my guts and wanting to see me bleed or get stoned to death. Someday maybe they will storm this castle, drag me outside and through the streets to murder me. I cannot even hold it against them. I have not been the king they deserved, nor the king that I should be." He murmured, after he heard the door to his chambers falling shut.

"You are still standing at the beginning and now, with your enemies out of the way, you can still achieve great things, Altaїr." Malik sighed and went to lean with his back against the balustrade; his head leant back in his neck just a bit so he could better look at the stars and the fireworks above them. "The stars are bright tonight. It's like they cheer you on."

"Don’t be cheesy now, that doesn’t suit you." Altaїr scoffed but leant forward more, his forearms still resting on the stone, his head craned and his gaze lowered to stare down into the gardens. The spot where the balustrade had given in was still not fixed, because Altaїr had not given his approval yet and he would continue to withhold it a little bit longer for he needed this hole in the balustrade to remind him of Rashid's death and his own luck a little bit longer. He had been so close to death on that faithful day – twice even. Maybe the old man was not worth the thoughts he wasted on him, but still Altaїr – or rather the child inside his mind – still thought about the days of his childhood within these halls. He thought about the hours and hours he had spent with this man, how Al Mualim had taught him about everything he needed to know and how he had always guided him.

Knowing that it was this very man who had instigated his father's death and had wanted _him_ dead too still broke his heart. Maybe this was a wound that would never fully heal again. "Its weird isn’t it?" He then started up again and nodded in the general direction of the hole in the balustrade. "The experts have written in their reports that the stone was perfectly intact. All three of them wrote independently from one another, that this balustrade had no reason for breaking in this particular spot. Yet it did."

"Maybe it’s a sign from _Allah_." Malik smirked, emphasizing the name of god more than usually to mock the king just a bit, as Altaїr shortly glanced at the man still standing next to him.

"Are you turning to religion now that you are growing old and becoming a father?" Altaїr murmured then and gently tried kicking him from the side, which ended in his naked feet only shortly scraping over Malik's left leg.

"Still jealous?" Malik snickered, but as Altaїr did not answer he spoke up again. "I love you. Don’t be jealous of my son."

For a moment Altaїr wanted to say it back or to kiss him or do anything that might be appropriate when someone else said those words for the first time, but he could not bring himself to say it. "Anna says it's going to be a girl and that she will name her after me. I don’t think _Altaїr_ will sound good for a girl. You could try Altaria, but I think that’s a Pokémon."

●●●●

Their _relationship_ had been odd from the start, that was nothing new to Malik. Maybe this was only normal for a relationship that had been born out of a childhood friendship, for they were always in this constant lingering state between being best buddies and lovers. Maybe because they were both and maybe there was no difference anymore for them. They needed to be careful with their relationship, maybe that was the cause of this odd state Malik always felt they were in, but he honestly did not care, for he liked the oddity of their love. He still found comfort and joy and pleasure in Altaїr's touches more than he had ever felt before with other men in his life. They were a couple for three years now, though they both would never call it that and though not much had changed during that time, the changes that had happened were all the better and all the more important to him. They did not have as much sex anymore as they had in the beginning and though it might be unbelievable and an affront for the hormone driven teenager he had once been, now every time they did have sex was more important and consuming.

Tonight Malik wanted to take his time, as he finally grabbed Altaїr's neck with his right hand and forcefully pulled him into a kiss to stop his nonsense rambling. He knew that the king only tried to escape returning his confession, as if he was still the child Malik had met three years ago, as if he was still afraid to say those words and as if Malik would not already know what he was feeling for him. It was oh so sweet when Altaїr returned the kiss and carefully placed his own hands to the sides of Malik's face. Since the attack on them during Altaїr's wedding every touch of the young monarch seemed changed, every kiss felt as if Altaїr was afraid it could be the last one and up until now Malik had felt the very same, but now, with Al Mualim and Ahmad Sofian dead and with Abbas Sofian in custody, finally, he felt they could start into a new era together.

The soft warm summer air lingered on his skin, when Altaїr's finger slowly brushed down and started to shove away this tedious black fabric that was still covering Malik's torso, without breaking away from the kiss, as Malik's tongue gently, but fiercely demanded entry only to be welcomed by Altaїr's tongue, asking for yet another dance. It felt as if they had not been so close for years, after they finally arrived at the bed, having left behind Malik's sherwani on the balcony's floor already, and yet it felt so familiar and sweet, when he pushed Altaїr onto his bed only to be pulled down by him in earnest. Tonight their lovemaking was oh so very slow and tender as if it would be the first time and while they always needed to be quiet to not alert suspicion, today it took not much effort for neither of them, while the room was filled with soft moans and gentle sighs.

Altaїr had always loved to tease him with little things, with the biting of his lips while suppressing his pleasured moans or with the way he would dug the heel of his left feet into the small of Malik's back to pull him closer, closer, closer, but tonight he did not even need to tease Malik, as he dragged Altaїr up to sit in his lap, while he leant his back against the soft padding of the headboard, his legs crossed under the king, as Altaїr followed and just sat there for a long moment, his arms and legs wrapped around Malik as if he was afraid he would leave him here if he would not hold him in place. Malik enjoyed just pausing for a second, closing his arms around the small of Altaїr's back and drinking in the sweet kiss Altaїr started up again. Usually their _encounters_ were hard and rough and rushed for they never had much time, but somehow tonight nothing else but them seemed to matter while still the fireworks over Masyaf were exploding and telling the story of the day Masyaf had been liberated and of the pride the people of this kingdom felt for their kingdom and their monarchy.

The air inside the room was humid and hot, while it was actually quite pleasant outside, but the tender breeze was still coming though the balcony doors, waving the silken curtains softly into the room, sending chills down Malik's spine every time the cool breeze would hit his sweat covered hot skin. Altaїr tasted like salt and desert when Malik slowly dragged his tongue over his ear and bit down on Altaїr's earlobe softly, before the king rearranged his long legs a bit, so he could move again, slowly taking in Malik's cock and Malik himself could not resist but to rock his own hips to meet him, his hands settling on Altaїr's waist to steady him as he took his cock deeper and deeper inside him as if it meant nothing. He took his time, not like he normally did and this newly acquired patience of Altaїr surprised Malik greatly, but not enough to say anything.

For Malik it had never been easy not to focus on the world around them while they had sex. For him it had never been easy to ignore the noises of the world around them, telling them about the danger they might be in, if someone was to barge in on them – though no one would ever dare of course to barge into the king's chambers like this. No one but Malik or Maria. Tonight even this was different and he was sure that never in his entire life he had felt more at ease, more comfortable and relaxed than he did now. He felt as if with Rashid's death a weight had been lifted from his shoulders and while his brains still could not comprehend everything he had learned so far, his body could and it embraced this new situation, this new day's dawn.

While Malik was biting down on Altaїr's shoulder gently, it was quite hard not to use too much pressure with his left hand, for he still had not the full control about his arm yet and he did not want to bruise Altaїr any more than he already was, but it was almost impossible to concentrate on this little detail, especially when Altaїr then decided he was comfortable enough and started to ride him in earnest, panting as he enjoyed the sweet pain and the little burn of Malik's thick cock plunging into him, ripping him open and filling him to his heart's desire, his own throbbing cock clamped between their bodies, massaged slowly by Altaїr's own movement.

Their hips rolled together, synchronized in mutual pleasure. Altaїr's short nails dug into the flesh of Malik's neck, into the muscles of his back while he steadied himself to fasten his paste, moaning as if the last time he had had sex laid back ages. It was not long until Malik could not stand it anymore, the sensation of Altaїr's perfect body welcoming his, the sight of his naked body entwined with Malik's own so that it was almost impossible to say where Altaїr began and where he himself ended. It felt as if they were just one person right in this moment, feeling and wanting the same thing and when his right hand closed around Altaїr's cock gently he felt the younger male shiver, heard the deep moan only Malik could draw from him and this knowledge alone was almost enough to send him over the edge of this cliff. Altaїr's skin was glistening with little drops of sweat under the heat of the room – close enough that Malik could easily count each and every little one of them – the sound of those deep immoral moans coming from the depths of Altaїr's throat, and when he finally lost it and came just in the same moment as Altaїr was thrown down the cliff of their shared desires and lust and perversion, deeply engulfed inside his lover, Altaїr continued to ride him through his orgasm, as he was being filled with Malik's release, some of it lazily dripping down those beautiful thighs Malik adored so much that he could hardly ever resist kissing or biting them.

"Your father was poisoned, you know that right?" Altaїr asked later. He sat with his back to Malik, cross legged on the edge of _his side_ of the bed (the right one) near the balcony doors, staring outside the still wide open doors. Until now Malik had thought he was still watching the fireworks or waiting for Darif to come back from his hunt, the white blanket lazily draped over his lap, but as he now spoke up Malik knew that he had been thinking and had been probably blind for the rest of the world, so he turned to his side and propped himself up a bit on his right arm so he could better look at the king, even though it only was Altaїr's beautiful back. He could hardly resist dragging down his fingertips over his spine and did not even know quite why, but Altaїr's spine always had something arousing to Malik. Maybe it was the new tattoo he got on his back a little after the incident with Al Mualim, the majestic black and white eagle that was spreading its wings over the left side of Altaїr's back. It had been one of Altaїr's quicker decisions. A week had passed after Rashid's death and Altaїr had ordered the best tattoo artist of the country into the castle without taking a second to overthink his actions.

"I know." Malik murmured quietly and though he still felt a bit drowsy, there was no way for him to fall asleep just now.

"They have poisoned him for months and months and months so that the doctors were sure it was only his heart becoming a bit weaker because of the stress and his age. They gave him just enough so that he would have a heart attack sooner or later." Altaїr then said and the bitterness dripped from his every word as if they had not just had sex and as if he should not feel tired and pleasured out of his mind. "Just enough so that no one would question it and only because he tried to find out the truth about his best friend's death."

"I know." He repeated patiently, for there was nothing else he could say. They spoke about his father's death, yes, and it had hit Malik hard as he had learned about the truth, just as it had hit Kadar quite hard. Oh, he had loved his father, but he had always felt as though there was something wrong with his death. It had not been a surprise to learn the truth and though he felt livid for being robbed of his father like this, he knew his father would not want him to dwell on it. Yet, every time Malik found himself in a more quiet situation, he could feel the sting of sorrow.

"If someday something happens to me and you think that there have been ill intentions in play with my death – do me a favor and do not try to find out if someone has killed me, alright? If somehow someday something happens to me, just … Well, live on without me and take care of your kids and of my kids and just let it go and make sure that my son or my daughter will be fit to rule and not as dumb as I was."

"How merciful to allow me to live my life independently from your death, your majesty." He snorted, but then Altaїr looked over his shoulders and he was dead serious. Malik only sighed. Oh he would not promise to not make the same mistake his father had done, because that would be a lie and they both knew this. Slowly he sat up and crawled over to Altaїr and only so he could pull him down on the mattress again with him, burying him in his arms whether the king liked it or not, as Malik lazily pulled the blanket over their naked, sweaty bodies. "If somehow someday something happens to you, I'll kill the person who has done it. For you are not allowed to ever leave me again, you hear me? I needed to spent seven years without my best friend already and now you have completely lost your freedom to me and as long as I am alive no one else can have you, not even death."

Altaїr just stared at him for a moment and the ridiculous tiny voice in Malik's head already screamed that his words had been a step too far, but then he smirked. "You sound like a complete psycho."

"Is that so? Well maybe that’s because I'm crazy for you." At least Altaїr laughed again and threw his head back into the pillow, before Malik could lean back a bit.

"No don’t be so cheesy!" Altaїr finally cackled – and oh how he had missed this ridiculous sound during those last weeks. He did not want Altaїr's fake laugh he used for the media or strangers. He wanted this annoying cackling sound that was his real laughter, because it made him laugh also and he knew that this was only for him. They fell silent again entwined in one another as if nothing in the world could bother them anymore. Malik enjoyed sleeping with Altaїr. Not just sex, but everything that happened afterwards. He had never been a cuddler, until Altar came back into his life and now he enjoyed nothing more than the skin-to-skin contact they shared afterwards. Nothing was more arousing and more satisfying to him as the feel of Altaїr's naked body against his. Even his always oh so very cold feet he had learned to love.

"My mother had been poisoned too." Altaїr then started up again, but he was absentmindedly brushing his long fingers over Malik's shoulder as he lied still entangled in his arms. "They wanted to kill us both. Isn’t this odd? That I survived I mean."

"You were quite weak after you were born." Malik gently reminded him. "You would have died if your mother would not have gotten into labor early and would have carried you to term."

"I know." Altaїr then murmured with a small sigh, his fingers now caressing Malik's neck gently, knowing how much the older male loved this, but it was Malik who changed their position again and pushed Altaїr onto his side, so he could wrap his left arm around him from behind. The arm he had almost lost for this man. Not because of him – _for_ him. He had been willing to be not only robbed of his life, but his arm too and he had not thought about the consequences. Maybe it was selfish. He had not thought about the child of his, who needed to grow up without his father back then, because the news had barely registered with him at that point. But now he would always need to think about his own family too – And how would he decide, if it would ever come to this? Maybe now was not the time to think about it or even come to a conclusion. Now he could only lie flushed against the king and brush his lips over his shoulder.

"Let's be honest here." Malik then stated, for he wanted to hear this cackle again. He wanted to get rid of the small wrinkles on Altaїr's face which were already spoken about the worries he felt. "You are pretty much unbreakable. Sure your ancestors have been quite wise personalities, but they are all dead now, _you_ on the other hand are still alive. Maybe that’s just _Allah's_ way of telling the world that it is now time an idiot shall rule."

At least a chuckle he could draw from Altaїr. "The kingdom is doomed." He then sighed.

"No, you have Maria as your queen. The kingdom will flourish under her influence, don’t worry. Do just as you did before and she will tidy up your mess and make it look like this was all your doing. You have chosen very wisely." Even though Malik might have thought otherwise in the beginning. When Altaїr first told him everything about his engagement with Maria, Malik had thought it sounded too perfect – too easy, but now Maria and Annabelle were the best friends he and Altaїr could have ever wished for. He loved his wife greatly, not only for the child she was blessing him with (and getting moodier every day), but for the sole fact that she was playing along from the start. He loved to sit with her or Maria and just talk for hours. He loved Annabelle's calm personality and her witty mind – Oh and his mother adored her. Life was perfect and that was what frightened him the most.

"I know." Altaїr then murmured and his voice told Malik that the king was about to fall asleep, so he kissed the base of his neck one more time gently. "I love her. She is the best gay sister I could have ever wished for." Altaїr then continued drowsily with a smirk playing on his beautiful scarred lips. "And I love you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you go, only one more chapter to go now. I am not quite satisfied with this one and if there is anything I forgot to clear up, please tell me X'D


	18. Epilog

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's it. It's over. I am as always torn between relieve and sadness XD But there are other projects for me to now focus my mind on fully. Please feel free to have a look on my other stories as well, if you like. There is lots of AltMal XD~  
> I already started a new littler project, which will be a hell of a lot shorter I think and much more funny, before I'll go back to more serious and angsty stuff afterwards...
> 
> Maybe I will write a sidestory to The Eagles of Masyaf also, centering on Desmond's adventures in London, after the whole ordeal of him needing to pose as Altair's gay cousin, but I cannot promise that for now XD Thank you for sticking with me throughout this story and for your support <3<3<3

It was snowing. Of course, that was hardly anything special in the small kingdom of Masyaf, especially not during this time of the year. The good people of Masyaf almost exclusively knew two extremes when it came to weather. It was either so freezing cold that damp laundry, which would be hanged outside to dry would freeze within a few minutes or it was so hot that people in the busy and crowded streets would faint on a regular basis without needing to do any straining work. There was hardly anything in between and after seven long years of living abroad even Altaїr had needed to get used to this again. He had forgotten how hot it got in Masyaf, during his stay with his extended family all over the world and though it got pretty hot in Italy too, he had struggled greatly with the temperatures, when he lived through his first summer after coming back home.

And though he himself was born in the winter months, when Masyaf was one big ice sculpture, he really preferred the hot air of summer, when his desert kingdom really looked like a _desert kingdom_ straight out of _Arabian Nights_ and when every little rain shower was an event in the streets of the city, ready to be celebrated with children jumping and running and dancing in the rain. But while the people of the kingdom were used to those conditions, Queen Maria seemed not to ever get used to it, even now, after so many years.

Altaїr really pitied his wife from time to time, but that was only ever when Maria would not pester him about something (mostly she pestered him about mediocre stuff and since she had plenty critique to offer, she hardly ever _not_ pestered him).

However now he really did pity her. It was the twenty-fifth of December, Masyaf castle was buried under a thick layer of glistening, powdery snow and while down in the city people woke up to celebrate Christmas ( _if_ they celebrated Christmas), Maria was confined behind closed doors for hours already.

"Dad!" He had tried to get his son to call him _Baba_ from the day the little monster had been born on, he really had. However sadly Darim Ibn-La'Ahad was the most stubborn four-year-old child he had ever had the good fortune of knowing - though his wonderful wife often remarked that this was clearly a trait Darim got from his side of the family. Malik agreed with her on that and though Altaїr thought quite differently, he was a bit worried his son could indeed be like him. This kingdom would not stand another one like him. "Daaaaaaaaaad!" The boy tried again as his father did not show any sign of reaction or at least glanced at him. "Oh come on, Dad!"

"Whaaaaaaaaaaat?" Altaїr finally replied as he turned his head and stopped in his pacing. There he stood, his first born son. Four years of age, towering in front of him at knee height, his little hands pressed in his sides (just like his mother always did when she would scold her idiot husband), the look he shot his father out of bright blue eyes deeply annoyed. It seemed the only trait he got from his father was his messy light brown hair, standing in all directions. Well, it was still very early and the sun had not yet risen, thus his son's looks – still wearing his dinosaur pajama, Altaїr envied him for greatly and his teddy in hand – were justified.

"Stop pacing!" Darim huffed in annoyance.

"I'm not pacing! Do you see me pacing? I'm standing perfectly still, or am I?" Altaїr replied swiftly, yes even defending himself in front of his petulant child! Why should he pace now anyway? There was hardly any reason for him to freak out to panic or _pace around_! After all, why should _he_ of all people freak out, when no one else was freaking out?

"Well, actually, your majesty, you did pace." Malik helpfully supplied from behind his back, stabbing him with an invisible dagger right through his heart. Well, Malik was the calm in the center of the storm as usual, sitting comfortably in one of the large armchairs in the sitting room in front of Maria's bedchambers. Anna was with her. Under different circumstances it would be Altaїr who would be with his wife, but since he fainted the first time so gloriously that he split open his head (again), he was exiled from Maria's bedchamber and thus from her side. Maria said he should not take this as a personal affront, but rather tell himself that the women, nurses and doctors were just worried for his wellbeing, while Maria would deal with the messy stuff.

"I'm not pacing… I never pace." He muffled before he sat down heavily on the couch right opposite that hated large white double winged doors. He already felt exhausted and he was not even the one doing the hard work. Apparently his son finally got what he wanted with his father sitting down again, because he finally climbed up on the couch to mount his father's unoccupied lap. For a moment Altaїr busied himself in stealing the teddy straight out of Darim's arms without any remorse whatsoever. After all it had been his! He could steal it from his son whenever he liked to! General MacGuffin needed a trip to the laundry desperately apparently, but of course his son would not allow it. They needed to wait until Darim would be distracted enough to let his teddy out of sight long enough so they could wash it (a task only to be performed by his parents themselves of course).

Altaїr liked to busy himself with something idiotic, whenever he was nervous or anxious and now that he couldn’t because his son pinned him in place and thus forced him to sit here, lean back and relax, he felt like he would throw up any minute now. Malik had it good. His son too was up and about, but … well he was not up and about strictly speaking, for he had fallen asleep ten minutes ago, hanging over the backrest of another armchair and Malik made no move at all to get his son into a more comfortable position. Apparently he either did not care if his son would wake up to an aching back later or with a hurting head from all the blood rushing into his head, or he thought the boy would not deserve any better for being so dumb. Altaїr had always been a little impressed with Malik and how calm he was when it came to raising children and how relaxed he always appeared in his behavior towards them. He was a natural born father and Malik had hardly ever panicked (with exception for the day his son had been born). Altaїr on the other hand … Well, he was constantly worrying. If it would be his son sleeping like this, he would immediately rush to his rescue.

"Dad." His son again tried to get his attention and Altaїr raised one eyebrow at him. Well, maybe his second child would call him _Baba_ at least.

"What."

"Tazim told me there is no Santa Clause." Under different circumstances Altaїr might have understood that his son was trying to distract him while Malik suppressed a faint chuckle in the background. Being a father suited Malik well and since Tazim's birth six years ago he was much calmer (even more calm) and relaxed most of the time. With every year that was passing Malik reminded him more and more and more on Faheem.

"What." Altaїr repeated with big eyes and shot a small glance to the sleeping culprit. He had always expected his son to become the new master of mischief, but apparently Tazim had already taken this crown and title.

"Yes! He said that there is no Santa Clause to bring us gifts on Christmas, and that you and Mommy do this. Is that true?" He could not even tell if his son was serious right now or if he would crush his little world telling him the truth, so he just played along a bit, hoping that it was not yet time to tell Darim the truth about Santa Clause, because then the truth about the tooth fairy and the Easter bunny were soon to follow.

"Well, maybe Tazim is just dumb. You mean Mommy and I are secretly wrapping your gifts and then stacking them under the Christmas tree?" Of course they had one. During his years abroad Altair had become so used to celebrating Christmas, that he now could hardly resist the urge. Of course he always said he did this only for his Christian wife, but he did this for himself mainly. He had always loved to celebrate the fest with his extended family and though every one of them had their own unique traditions and rituals, every Christmas celebration had been special to him and centered only on the family. In Italy everything had been quite conservative with the entire family (even him) needing to visit the holy mess in their best clothes, in London Haytham had tried to have the festivities more classy and conservative but had been mostly sabotaged by his own father and native wife and in America everything had been quite casual, so much in fact that the Christmas morning had been more like a big pajama party. Maybe he had loved it so much, because every one of his families had made him feel like he was a part of the family during this holiday especially. Whatever it was, now they had the biggest Christmas tree in the kingdom, set up in the great hall and Altaїr still loved to resign from his duties for a few days and spent time with his family.

"Yes! That’s what Tazim said!" Darim replied with a small frown and Altaїr glanced shortly at Malik, but without needing a word, the older male raised his hands in defense, as if he refused to take the blame for his son. Yes, in moments like this, when Tazim Al-Sayf was clearly showing his evil side, somehow Malik suddenly never had a child and never had heard of a Tazim Al-Sayf.

"Have you seen me wrapping gifts lately?" Altaїr then turned back to his son, slowly but surely forgetting why he had been so nervous before.

"No. But you do wrap gifts! I have seen it when it was my birthday!" Darim immediately shot back, for no matter that he was only four years old, he knew what he was talking about! Yes, Sir!

"And you saw how the gifts I wrapped turned out, didn’t you?"

His child made a grimace and did not even have the decency to not show it to his father to spare his poor heart from shattering. "Yes. They looked like crap." Maria would lecture the boy for this kind of language immediately, but Altaїr just leant back in the cushions and wrapped his arms around Darim. Speaking the truth was always best, he decided and he clearly suddenly too tired to care about the language the boy used.

"Exactly. I am not able to wrap gifts if my life would depend on it and your mother is not really good with this either. But the gifts Santa always brings are looking quite good, don’t they? So no, your mommy and I are not wrapping gifts to put them under the tree, that’s Santa's work." Altaїr calmly explained, hoping he would fall for it, but apparently Darim's mind had turned to a new topic already.

"Is the new baby a Christmas present from Santa?" Malik stifled a laugh and Altair glared at him once again.

"Well, we'll see that when it's here I guess. If it's wrapped, then yes, I guess."

His second born child came not wrapped in Christmas-themed wrapping paper. It came wrapped in light blue blankets as Altaїr would later on notice. Of course Altair knew that babies usually came not wrapped in blankets though. He had seen that they didn't, last time. But he liked to have the illusion that this baby did come wrapped in blankets. It was easier this way, because then he would not need to think about all the blood and gore and mess that were usually involved in the birth of a child.

Darim had done a great job in distracting his father with their conversation about Christmas, so much in fact that they were still talking about the pros and cons for the existence of Santa, that Altaїr was completely taken by surprise as the doors to Maria's room were finally opened by a tired looking young woman, poking her head through the doors before she softly smiled at the king. He would have jumped up if he would not have Darim sitting on his lap, but it was Malik who first rose to his feet and quickly closed the distance between the king and his own spot near the windows, if only to steal Darim from his father's arms and pick the boy up himself.

"So, Darim, I think we two should have a little talk now. Man to Man." Malik grinned and was immediately rewarded with Darim's full attention, as if Malik would provide the boy with all the secrets he longed to learn about. To Altaїr it was a miracle how the boy was not tired, after he had been shaken awake from the ruckus inside the castle hours ago already. But then again he himself was not at all tired anymore all of the sudden. He felt as if ants were crawling under his skin, as he slowly rose to his feet and he only dully heard Darim saying "About Santa?", before he staggered towards his wife's room. He felt as if his knees were made out of the green jelly his son liked to eat (and he too of course).

Walking through the double winged doors into Maria's bedroom was weird all of the sudden, though he had been here numerous times (mostly to loaf around and watch their favorite show together, which their lovers always refused to watch with them). Anna was still at Maria's side, clasping her hand gently. She would very probably like to kiss her girlfriend, but since they were surrounded by all those people she couldn’t, not even though it was Connor who had helped her deliver the baby. It was pure luck that the giant was here, because he only arrived yesterday evening to celebrate Christmas with them, while Leonardo and Ezio were still stuck in Italy due to a blizzard. Of course they had more than enough doctors around to deliver the baby, but as soon as Maria went into labor, to Altaїr it had been clear that he only trusted Connor enough to deliver his second born child. And now the big giant was still lingering about and helped the nurses to clean up the silently whining child, obscuring Altaїr's gaze with his broad frame.

Maria was pale, as he stepped closer, but she looked quite pleased with herself and with what she had created and accomplished (as if it was her doing all alone, pfft!). It was hard for Altaїr not to get too distracted by the little wailing coming from the left hand side of the room, where the child apparently was tortured. Until now he still had no clue if he had another son or the little princess he had secretly longed for. Maria decided she did not want to know during her pregnancy and like always she completely ignored Altaїr's wishes in that matter quite thoroughly. She had done so before when they had waited for Darim to be born and it had not taken them long to decide that they wanted to have at least one more kid. A sibling for Darim, the sibling, Altaїr had always wished for when he was a child.

When he reached her he leant down to press a chaste kiss to her forehead and brushed his fingers through her damp dark brown hair. She chuckled a bit, but did not say anything. Of course she would chuckle or laugh at her husband as if she would have not just had spent the last hours in agonizing pain pushing a little human out of her … _well, better not dwell on this_. Maybe it was the adrenalin or the hormones kicking in. "How are you?" He murmured, listening only halfheartedly to Connor's deep voice a few feet away. Apparently he was comforting his baby, judging by the pitch and the butter soft tone his voice suddenly had. Connor was simply great with kids.

"Fine." Maria replied nonchalant and waved her hand at him as if it was nothing, as if every woman was just briefly giving birth to another human between preparing food and doing the dishes. Annabelle smirked at him, but he had no time to really talk to them anymore, for in that exact moment Connor finally turned around, the little Christmas package wrapped in light blue blankets carefully secured in his arms.

Altaїr almost toppled over as Connor handed him his baby son and for a moment he felt like he had felt when he had first held Darim. What if he would drop him? What if he held him too tight? He could crush this little guy! How in the world would anyone trust him with a newborn? Were they all completely insane? But Connor gently pushed him towards the doors wordlessly. "Give us a moment." Maria snickered, because apparently seeing her husband helpless like this always pleasured her immensely. Altaїr knew that they needed a bit more time now, and that the birth of a child was not over because the kid was out in the world. But still he felt like he was wading slowly through quicksand as he turned around with the baby boy in his arms to stagger out of the room. He expected his son jumping him as soon as the doors fell shut behind him again, but there was only silence greeting him.

It took him a moment to register that Darim was fast asleep on the couch by now, General MacGuffin in his arms and Malik sat beside him, his eyes closed and one hand leisurely draped on Darim's shoulder, while the little boy's head was resting on Malik's left leg. He wondered if Malik might have sat like this beside his father when he was born. It was quite cute, but Altaїr was also glad, that he had this moment to himself now. Slowly he walked to the big window overlooking the courtyard, before he gazed down into his newborn son's face. He was all wrinkly and apparently not at all happy with the current situation, but he had already a patch of dark hair on his little head, though maybe not as much as Darim had (really, he had never known an infant could possess so much hair!). "Why hello there…" He murmured quietly to not alert anyone.

Suddenly it occurred to him, that holding his newborn baby was the most terrifying thing he had ever felt in his life, but then the baby squirmed a little in his blankets on his arms, one tiny arm wriggling its way out of his cocoon and an even tinier fist making it through to the surface as if to either celebrate his victory or threaten his father with his fist for daring to speak to him. The sudden rush of panic surging through his body made him almost faint right on the spot. Why was Malik asleep now of all times? How could he sleep when he needed to hold a baby? Were they all mad for entrusting him with a child? Hadn’t they seen him stumble around like a fool during those last years?

But now he was all alone with his son in this room.

His son.

He had hoped for a little princess he could spoil rotten, but Maria had known right from the start that this one too would be a boy and Altaїr felt a soft smile tugging on the corners of his mouth, as he watched how the boy was slowly blinking up at him, before he yawned so heavily he scrunched up almost his entire little, wrinkly face.

"Hello Sef…" He murmured again softly and carefully stroked his fingers over the tiny arm. Almost immediately Sef closed his fingers around the last digit of Altaїr's index finger, as he reached the tiny fist and held him in place. Surprisingly strong. Briefly he thought back to Darim's birth, but his oldest had hardly bothered to scream after he was born. He had been fast asleep the entire time. Sef on the other hand looked as if he had the most miserable time of his life. He was clearly unhappy with his father already. Maybe Darim would now point out that Sef was looking gross though cleaned, but Altaїr did not mind. He had already loved this little creature as soon as Maria presented him with the positive pregnancy test nine months ago. Even back then he had not minded at all, that she had previously peed on the thing, as he had grabbed it for closer inspection.

There had not been many situations or moments in Altaїr's still quite young life, in which he simply could not have stopped smiling. Maybe Darim's birth, because he recalled Malik saying he was grinning like a maniac back then, but now – even if someone would threaten to stab him, he would not be able to stop smiling. "Welcome to the world, little gremlin." Altaїr hummed, before he leaned down a bit and planted a soft kiss against the still a bit wet and tousled hair of the baby boy. "Please Sef, if you wouldn’t mind doing me that favor, be on my side, okay? I'm afraid your big brother has already chosen his alliances with his mother and Malik, so you're the only one I've got left."

"Are you already indoctrinating the baby?" Malik's voice sounded a bit hoarse though he could not have slept longer than a few minutes, ten at the most! But when he turned around Malik's eyes were open again and rested on his little son, as if he was going to steal Sef from him as soon as Altaїr would give him the chance.

"I'm not indoctrinating anyone, just asking for a favor." Altaїr chuckled, his index finger still in his son's little claw, unwilling to let go of him again soon. Malik smirked, but sadly then the doors were opened again and Anna poked her head out of the room.

"It's time the little man will meet his mother properly." Anna smiled as she slowly walked towards Altaїr and suddenly he did not want to give him over. He wanted to keep Sef as close as possible and not share him with anyone. Oh, his mother was going to taint the little gremlin just as she had done with Darim, but when Anna stared at him he gave up with a sigh and carefully handed Sef over, making sure his little head would not drop before Anna had him perfectly safe in her arms and then turned around to vanish inside Maria's chambers again.

"Safety and peace, little gremlin." Altaїr caught himself mumbling, before the doors fell shut again, leaving him behind with empty arms, but a heart so full of love and happiness and pride, it was ready to explode. Briefly, as he turned to look outside the windows again and watched the snow pouring from the skies, he wondered what his granny would say if she could see him now.


End file.
